


Finding Betty Cooper

by Alilyinlife



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Banter, Basically a story about Bughead, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2019-06-22 08:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15577791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alilyinlife/pseuds/Alilyinlife
Summary: Elizabeth Andrews is no cookie-cutter wife like her husband Archie wants her to be. She was wild, outgoing and was anything but a housewife before their fling led them to get knocked up and regrettably married. A life neither wants anymore but both are stuck in this nightmare for different reasons. One day when Elizabeth hits her breaking point she meets a handsome biker. A man that captures her attention and ignites her wild side once more. Will he bring the wild Betty Cooper back or will she remain Elizabeth Andrews because she's in too deep?





	1. The Grass is Not Greener

Elizabeth gazed off into the distance, the dishcloth falling from her fingertips. “Mommy! Mommy!” a voice screamed.

Elizabeth’s eyes blinked rapidly as her back straightened. Glancing behind her, her little man ran towards her as fast as he could, his little feet smacking against the linoleum of the kitchen floor as he was being chased.

“Archie,” Elizabeth growled, as the toddler huddled behind her, clasping onto her leg. “I told you not to wind him up.”

“Lighten up,” Archie muttered and scrubbed his hand hard over their son’s head. “Little tikes need excitement, otherwise they grow up to have a stick up their backside, like their mother.”

Elizabeth glowered, teeth clenching as she bit back the words of telling him just where he could shove that stick. “Funny,” she muttered. “But if I remember correctly, you preferred me like this.”

“It’s the better side of you, yes. Out of the two extremes, you only seem to have, this one is better for Christopher,” he muttered and drank from the beer he’d pulled out of the fridge. “Have fun putting him to bed,” he said with a smirk as he waltzed away. It was moments like this that Elizabeth thought she was better off single.

Elizabeth tried to smile, feeling very tight in her skin, and her hands clenched until her palms stung. 

“Mommy?”

“Bed, Christopher. Now.”

“I’m not tired!” the toddler whined.

“Now,” she said a little louder. The toddler seemed very offended and his lip began to quiver. “I swear if you cry right now, no play date on Saturday.”

Suddenly the charade was over but then he started a new one; he threw a tantrum and ran upstairs in a hurry, screaming the whole way.

Elizabeth sighed and looked down at the half-moon crescents that were embedded into her palm. She was getting very tired, very quickly. The charade that she was fine, was becoming mentally exhausting and she found herself clenching the countertop in a desperate attempt to stop herself from crying.

“No,” she whispered to herself. Elizabeth was getting to that point where she was at breaking point.

Elizabeth made the climb of the day, dragging herself upstairs, after cleaning the house, and turned off the lights as she went. Christopher was in his room, in his pyjamas by some blessing of the gods, but he was not asleep. He was anything but.

Elizabeth frowned as she opened his door wider and saw him jumping on his bed with a buzz lightyear figure in his hand.

“Christopher, it’s bedtime," she said sternly.

“I am in bed,” he said cheekily. Elizabeth wasn’t in the mood. The battle with a four-year-old was not going to happen tonight.

“Fine, stay up, but no play date.”

“Mom!” he cried and fell to the bed in a heap. He sobbed, kicking his feet like a spoilt brat and Elizabeth could have strangled him.

“Enough!” she yelled. It wasn’t often that Elizabeth raised her voice. In her opinion, it wasn’t the right way to parent but by some miracle, Christopher stopped and stared.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened, but she stood her ground. “If I have to come back in here, that will be it. You understand?” The toddler still stared in disbelief, but Elizabeth was already closing the door.

* * *

After her nightly bathroom routine in her bedroom en suite, she crawled into bed, where her husband was already. Reading whatever work papers he’d brought home from the office, he didn't even glance up to acknowledge her.

“Resulting in yelling at him now, huh?” Archie said, mockingly, but was yet to look at her.

“Shut up,” she whispered and turned away from him. She pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes.

“Your other face is showing there, Elizabeth.”

Her eyes snapped open. “What do you care?” she snarled. “I’m not the only one that’s changed.”

“I’ve changed. I had to, to provide. What do you expect of me, huh?”

“A husband,” she snapped as she sat back up to look at him.

Finally, Archie glanced at her, but with no more concern than if she was a mere pest. “I provide for you and Christopher. Want more could you want?”

“For you to touch me! To talk to me! Anything, really!" she yelled at him.

“Touch you?" he scoffed. "You’re the one that said no. You’ve been saying no!”

Elizabeth's head jerked back as she scoffed now. “Oh, yes. I forget about the times you come home, smelling of whatever the fuck you've been drinking, and slobber all over me. Yeah, that really gets me so fricken hot! I love fucking drunk men,” she snarled.

“Slobber? How classy of you. Belittling your hard-working husband. Yes, I go out and drink. I fucking work hard!”

“So you keep saying," she responded quickly. "Yet you only seem to want me when you’re drunk. Perhaps because you’re so shit-faced that you think I’m someone else," she suggested. "Would explain a lot.”

Archie raised an eyebrow, “Oh, so you’re accusing me of adultery now too?”

“I said nothing of the sort. I said thinking, not doing. You came up with that one on your own.”

“No, you did. You think I’m cheating,” Archie snarled, looking at her like he wanted to slap her. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t have but now . . . I tried to forget but now you’ve brought this up. Just remember that.”

Archie growled at her but she cut him off with a hand in front of his face. “You said her name, Archie. Last week, and you’ve been in a mood all week since!”

“Because of you! You’ve been snippy with me!” he yelled.

“Because you said her name! How could I feel any sort of joy when my husband climbs on top of me in the middle of the night, only to be getting off on the image of another woman.”

“It was a slip of the tongue,” Archie said, flipping off the lamp on the nightstand and turning on his side, away from her.

“Oh, so next time, I’m okay to say someone else's name during sex, huh? Oh, Mr Postman, yes. Harder!” she mocked.

“Go to sleep, Elizabeth,” he muttered, not taking the bait.

“Oh, no. If you think I’m going to sleep with you after this, you’re insane,” she said as she arose from the bed. Throwing on her gown, she tossed her long, blonde hair over her shoulder as she disappeared into her closet.

“Once again, you are overreacting as usual,” Archie said annoyed.

"Well, in that case, it will give you more trash talk to say about me at work.”

Elizabeth emerged from the closet in dark blue jeans, she hadn’t worn in ages, a silk white top, and a leather jacket.

“What the fuck are you wearing,” Archie muttered.

“Have a nice night. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out when you go to work tomorrow.”

“Elizabeth, don’t fucking do this again. This isn’t proper-”

“Proper attire to wear in this neighbourhood? Or proper behaviour for our social class, because remember this is your social class. Not mine. I didn't sign up for this.”

“You did when you married me. You wanted me, loved me and I did everything to give you what you wanted in return. I have given you a good life.”

“What’s a marriage if it’s a sham? You don’t love me anymore. You don’t touch me or talk to me. We are only together because of the image.”

“And our son?” he dared her.

“Yes and Christopher. That is all that’s left of us.” She turned from him.

“And that’s how it will stay. It’s time you grew up Elizabeth and realise this is how the world works.”

“How the world works, huh? I think I know how it works better than you, Arch. The world sees through our facade and you’re too scared to realise it.”

“Don’t fucking talk like that. Come back to bed," he growled.

“No,” Elizabeth said simply.

“You want me to touch you? Is that it? Come back to bed. Now.”

Elizabeth hesitated before she shook her head. “I need to clear my head.”

“You know, you were in love with me once,” he said simply like it was some afterthought.

“You’re right. There was a time that I’d kill for you, but you stomped that flame out a long time ago; when you decided some piece of ass was better than mine. I’m tired of pretending like I don’t know or care. I deserve better than this bullshit. I’m a person Arch and I need to breathe so goodbye.”

Archie ran a hand through his hair and seemed agitated. “What will Chris say when he wakes up to find you not here?”

“I’ll be back before he wakes. However, you shouldn’t come back tonight after work. We need some space.”

“You’re acting fucking crazy again!” he snapped suddenly.

“You knew who I was. I was upfront about that from day one!” Elizabeth beat feet out of the house as fast as she could, desperate to get away.

“God,” she whispered.

She took a deep breath in and looked around the neighbour. It felt the same as it always did. It was fake, and it wasn’t for her. Playing this charade of a perfect wife in a white picket fence house was killing her, and Archie knew that it would. He didn't care. He had expectations to uphold because he was supposed to marry a good girl like that and not...well her.

However, in a crazy fit of passion where they both fell madly in love, she fell pregnant out of wedlock, and suddenly became trapped in this life. A life that wasn’t really meant for her. A life of fake trees, she thought as she walked down the sidewalk.

Don’t get it wrong, she loved her son. She loved the little brat more than she knew was possible. It was her husband that she’d fallen out of love with. It was his determination to cage her wild side so she’d fit in, that broke them apart in the first place. Just in five short years, their love went from flames to ashes. She wasn’t even sure it could be fixed.

Elizabeth walked till her feet hurt, though she didn't seem to care. It was a pain that was more bearable than the one in her heart. She wasn’t a total monster, she had a heart and it did break with the thought of falling out of love with her husband. However, there was no use in trying to build their relationship again, when all that was left was the equivalent loose sand.

Nearly to the town, where she did her weekly shopping, she noticed so much more, now that she wasn’t rushing around in an All American SUV for moms.

She found a bar, something she hadn’t noticed before, and didn't even think twice about entering.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“Screwdriver. Thanks.”

“On me,” a throaty, deep voice said.

“That’s okay, really-” she glanced at the man down the bar and smiled. “It’s okay.”

“You don’t want my free drink or you just shy?”

“I don’t know what your intentions are," she countered.

“Oh, purely evil I assure you,” the man said.

Elizabeth laughed, hiding behind her hair. The man hid his smile of amusement.

“Tall-Boy, don’t let her pay,” the man said to the bartender, then winked at Elizabeth.

The bartender placed the drink down but refused the money placed in front of him.

Elizabeth nodded graciously at the man down the bar and raised the drink to say thank you.

“Now for my evil intentions . . .” he said with a wicked grin.

Elizabeth couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Dungeons and whips?” she guessed.

“Yes, you must come and be my submissive, in my dungeon of slaves,” he said, joking.

“Oooh, I would but I’m in a bit of a time crunch, and I don’t think I’m flexible enough.”

The man smiled then said, “Fine, I’ll settle for your company. It’s no dungeon, but whatever.”

Elizabeth and him eventually found a booth in the back. It was very dim in the bar with hardly any people. “You live round here?” he asked.

“Yeah, closer than you think. What about you?”

“Around here. Haven’t seen you in here, you new?” he asked.

“Nope been living here for years," she said with the quick jerk of her shoulders.

“Rough day?” he suggested.

“Rough year,” she replied simply. Glancing at her drink, she decided it wasn’t a good idea to be drinking with a stranger, but then she thought of her husband and downed her drink.

The man eyed her cautiously. “I’d ask, but sometimes it’s better not to.”

“You’re so right,” she agreed.

“Something else then. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Favourite colour? I wouldn't know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Favourite drink?” he said. “Should be easier.”

“Ugh, right here, this screwdriver. Haven’t had this in years though.” Suddenly it dawned on her, just how much she had changed. She barely recognised herself.

“What about-”

Sick of probing questions she jumped in. “What about you Mr…” she paused, prompting him for his name.

“Jones.”

“Jones. What’s your favourite colour and drink?” she asked and leaned in a little.

“Well, so far, I didn't have a favourite colour and now, it’s blue.”

“Now it’s blue? Since when?” she whispered.

“Since I met you,” he said quietly, keeping himself reserved.

“Oh, uh. Why?” she whispered. Suddenly she felt like it was a secret.

“Your eyes.”

Elizabeth seemed taken back, realised he was flirting with her . . . and she liked it. It was the most attention she’d gotten in a long time.

“Oh, uh thanks.”

They kept quiet for a moment, yet it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was more charged, more electric and both of them seemed taken by each other.

“You didn't tell me about your favourite drink.”

“Well, I don’t know that yet,” he said roughly.

“What do you mean?”

Jones leaned in closer and his mouth brushed over hers before her hands fisted his shirt and dragged him closer. His tongue brushed over hers gently, before demanding more, and suddenly they were two horny teenagers making out in a booth. Yet something about it was hot to Elizabeth. It was beautiful and hot. Very hot...like she needed to take a breath right now.

“Oh,” she whispered and leaned back. “I apologise.”

“No, I do. That was out of character for me.”

“Oh, I uh . . .” she stuttered for the words.

He touched her hand briefly as it still remained clinging to his shirt. She quickly let it go but he grasped it and held it. “I apologise. Really.”

“Don’t. Please don’t. That was...hot. The nicest thing I’ve had in a while,” she said, reassuring him. “Though I don’t want you to think I come to bars in the middle of the night to make out with strangers.”

Jones smiled and released her hand. “Then tell me your name.”

“Uh, Elizabeth Andrews,” she said quietly.

“Now we aren’t strangers.”

Elizabeth giggled, “If you say so.”

They launched into more conversation that had Elizabeth feeling more appreciated than she had in years. Just her company was nice for him, and she relished his actual enthusiasm in talking to her.

She thought herself quite boring these days, yet she found herself talking about things before she met Archie, before she became a boring housewife. Though there was the awkward fact that she forgot to mention she was married. She felt obligated to when she realised she been talking to a man that was not her husband, from midnight to dawn.

“Ugh, I should mention I’m married," she suddenly said.

“Oh,” he said. “Now I’m even more sorry about kissing you," he muttered. 

“He doesn’t love me, and I’m here tonight because I walked out,” she found herself saying. She didn't know why she said anything about it in the first place but she just kept saying the words.

“Oh.”

“I’m not saying that to justify my behaviour. It’s still not . . . right of me. I just, I don’t want you to think I’m cheating or anything. Like sleeping around on my husband.”

“No, of course not.”

“I just needed to escape because of . . . I just . . . my life’s a mess,” she whispered and her breath caught in her throat.

Jones placed a hand on her lower back and tried to soothe her. “Hey, it’s okay. I get it. I wouldn’t even think to judge you. I kissed you, so that’s on me.”

Elizabeth let out a short laugh. “As if I stopped you. I kissed you back.”

“You’re going through something. Moments of weakness happen. It doesn’t make us bad people, just human. You have morals, you’re not a terrible person.”

“I am. I didn't want it to stop. I have a son, and a husband and I were here kissing you. What sort of person does that?”

“Someone who's struggling. It’s okay.”

“Is it? My husband doesn’t love me anymore because I’m not who I used to be, but he wanted me this way. My son, he’s such a little brat. God, I love him so much that I don’t want to ruin everything by breaking up with his dad.”

“You shouldn’t be forced into something you don’t want to do. Your son might not understand that, but it’s better than being less of a mother because of how unhappy you are.”

“You make so much sense, and yet I don’t have the guts.”

“Says the woman who would put my gang to shame," he teased. Elizabeth glanced around the bar at the faces of his fellow gang members but didn't feel even slightly afraid.

Elizabeth smiled and glanced up into his golden brown eyes, and his floppy hair falling over his face. The toothpick he was still chewing was becoming distracting. The movement of his mouth made her envy that toothpick.

“I know I really shouldn’t ask you this but . . . would I be a terrible person if I left my husband?”

“Does he make you happy?” Jones asked, leaning back and propping his arms upon the booth behind him.

“No. Not really," she admitted while staring at the condensation of her drink.

“Does he love you - no, do you love him?”

“I don’t think I have in a long time. Just seeing his face makes my sides hurt in anguish.” She hated how much that was true.

“Then no. I don’t think you could ever be a bad person. Someone who is remaining miserable for her own son doesn’t sound like a terrible person to me.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. She glanced up at the morning sun spilling through the coloured glass windows. “I should get back home. Thank you. Really, this was nice. It was nice to meet you, Jones,” she said with a smile and stood to her feet.

Jones stuck his hand out to say goodbye. “Jughead. My name’s Jughead Jones.”


	2. Cracks of Reality

Back at home, Elizabeth felt her palms tingle, her spine tense as she crept through the front door. Archie was there at the breakfast table, eating his morning cereal and otherwise ignored her.

“Where is Chris,” Elizabeth asked firmly.  
  
Archie just snorted. “He’s your responsibility, Liz. I’m not going to do your only job for you just because you want to go out roaming in the night.”

Elizabeth gritted her teeth. She hated it when he called her Liz. That nickname died with their love and using it now felt like nails on a chalkboard. A time gone and ruined.

“You didn't have to to do much,” she said to him. “Just tell him to get up!” She turned from him, fury boiling through her veins and stomped up the stairs.

Christopher sat in the corner of his room, a very sad look on his eyes as he hugged his toy bear.

“What’s wrong, bubba?” she cooed.

“Daddy said you left," he whispered.

Elizabeth sighed before crossing the room and picking him up. “Daddy shouldn’t have said that. Mommy just needed to run some errands, okay? I was always coming back.”

“Daddy said you wanna leave us.” Elizabeth felt the fury of murder. She wanted to go back downstairs and ram his spoon down his throat.

“No, no. Mommy loves you very much and would never leave you," she insisted and booped his nose.

“You take me with you?” Christopher said softly.

“Always, bubba. Always,” she cooed.

“I don’t want to stay with daddy. He angry at me.”

“No. Daddy loves you very much. He mad at momma. Not you.”

Christopher shifted in her arms.

“Are you gonna leave daddy? Live with nana?”

“No. We stay right here,” she said and kissed his head. She set him on his feet. “Time to get dressed for school.”

* * *

 

By the time Archie left for work, Elizabeth had managed to avoid him in the process of getting her boy ready for school. Unhappy with what he had said, she was almost ready to change the locks on him but decided that would look bad in front of Christopher.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

“What?”

“You’re spilling coffeeee!” Elizabeth glanced down to see she had indeed overfilled her mug and made a mess on the kitchen floor.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. Cleaning it up, Christopher stayed still for once, instead of running around or getting in the way. It was unusual to see him so . . . calm.

“You okay there, bubba?”

“Is daddy going to leave?” he said quietly.

Elizabeth froze, her mouth parted and her muscles locked.

She forced the next words, turning away from her son so he couldn't see her vulnerability. “I don’t know, bub. Maybe. Get your bag, we are leaving in a few minutes.”

* * *

Elizabeth sighed as she opened the car door to let Christopher out of his car seat.

“Have a fun day, bubba.” Christopher didn't wait to be escorted into the building and took off fast to daycare. The teacher smiled as he ran in and waved out.

Elizabeth somehow didn't have the strength to put on the facade and took in shallow breaths. The teacher frowned, making her way over, but Elizabeth shook her head and got in the car quickly.

“Elizabeth!” she called out.

Elizabeth took off way faster than she was supposed to in an area full of children and swerved out of the carpark fast.

“No,” she whispered to herself. “Just breathe.”

Without thinking, she pulled into the bar she was at last night and blinked at the instinct to come here. She shook her head in annoyance with herself. She was just causing herself more strife and issues.

She stared, longingly, at the bar in front of her and wondered if the man was there. That gorgeous man that made her heart beat like crazy.

“Pull it together," she scolded herself.

Elizabeth shook her head again, put the car in reverse and took off too fast. She clipped her car against another one passing by. “Shit,” she muttered.

The other car took off, not caring to stop but Elizabeth sat there in shock. She stumbled out of the car and looked at the damage. Her bumper was loose and the paint was missing. Nothing too big. She needed to get this fixed or Archie would give her more shit.

Stumbling back into her car, she pulled into the closest garage and tried to smile politely like she always did. Her skin pulled tight over her cheeks. Still a little shook and embarrassed, she stumbled her way into the garage office. “Uh, hi. I scraped my car this morning. Can I get a quote?”

“Sure, love,” the woman receptionist said. She arose from her seat, jumped out of her little office and rounded the corner to the back of the garage. “Jug, I need a quote.”

Elizabeth didn't notice at first but when he walked around the corner, his flannel jacket hanging around his hips, his dirty, grey tank top, and that beanie he was still wearing . . . Elizabeth almost fainted. He by some stretch of the imagination got hotter the dirtier he looked.

Jughead smiled, the toothpick switching sides, as he looked her over. “What’s the problem,” he said. “Ma’am.”

“Uh, I scraped my car. I want to know how much time it’ll take to fix.”

Jughead raised an eyebrow, but kept it professional and brushed past her.

Surveying the damage, he took the toothpick out of his mouth and gestured at the damage. “Not much time. An hour tops.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you. When do you want me to come in?”

“How urgent is it,” he said, his voice dropping. Elizabeth paused and his eyes flicked up to look at her.

“Oh, whenever you can. Today if possible. Like before five.” Each little new piece of information being added slowly and reluctantly.

“I’ll do it now. Carol, can you get Toni on the phone?”

Elizabeth’s hands clenched in front of her, nervous and agitated. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“See you in an hour,” he said, waving her off.

Elizabeth walked around town for what seemed like forever. “Stupid,” she said to herself. “He’s not that into you and you’re married.”

She did some very light grocery shopping on her way back and paused when Jughead leaned against her car, clipboard in hand. The moment his gaze landed on her, she almost dropped the bags in her hands.

“Fixed?” she whispered.

“Yep. Easy done.”

Elizabeth smiled as she walked closer. Pausing inches from him, she quickly turned and put the groceries in the back seat; grabbing her purse as she closed the door. “How much,” she said.

“On the house.”

“Oh no. That’s . . . no. I’m sure your boss will not approve.”

“He won’t mind. Don’t you worry," he said.

“No, please let me pay. I won’t sleep if I don’t.”

“You haven’t slept already.”

Elizabeth twitched, her hands clenching before she hung her head to hide from his gaze.

“I can’t not pay you for your work. That’s not right.”

“Fine, I’ll let you pay at dinner.”

“Huh?”

“Dinner, tonight. That’s how you’ll pay. Meet me here at seven.” Then he turned from her and didn't say another word as he walked away.

“Here’s your keys, Miss,” the receptionist said. Elizabeth almost fumbled with the keys, too busy staring after Jughead.

* * *

Even as Elizabeth tucked Christopher into his bed that night, she thought about the way Jughead watched her. Constantly he watched her; with a look that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Where’s dinner?” Archie growled.

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth said, and brushed past him, closing Christopher’s bedroom door.

“Where’s my fucking dinner? It’s a simple question!”

“You weren’t here when dinner was served," she said with a shrug.

“Don’t get smart now, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth hid her smile. “Maybe you will learn to call me when you’ll be home late so I can prepare for such circumstances . . . however, if I remember correctly, you weren’t supposed to come home.”

Archie slapped her, right across her face that made her stumble sideways and collide with the wall. “How dare you speak to me that way!” Archie yelled.

Elizabeth smiled with no regret, no tears threatened to spill and she was happy this happened. No. She loved it. This was what she wanted.

“Again,” she whispered. “Go on. Hit me again.”

Archie lost his temper even more and paced towards her, grasping her arms and shook her. Their faces inches apart, he growled and she smiled evilly.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it, you psychotic bitch!”

“Go on, Arch. It’s what you really want to do. I deserve it. All I’ve ever done is fucking served you.”

“Fuck you.” He let her go roughly so she ended up stumbling backwards and hit the ground.

Archie stomped down to their bedroom at the end of the hall and slammed the door.

Elizabeth wiped the blood from her lip and snorted. “Pussy.” Just like that, she knew that Archie held no respect for her. No love. They were truly done. No doubt about it.

Elizabeth made her way into the bedroom and watched as he shrugged off his suit jacket.  
  
“You wanna hit me again,” she mocked. "Come on, Arch. Hit me."

“Get away from me.”

“You wanna hurt me, Arch?” she asked. She rounded the room, almost cornering him as the crazy in her took over. She was past her control. Her limits were broken.

“Fuck off, Elizabeth!" he snapped.

“Wanna leave me?” she taunted.

“Elizabeth, just shut the fuck up!” he yelled. He was getting ready to blow. She wouldn't stop until she got his anger.

“Come on, Arch. Do it! Let it all go. I’m a big girl and I can take a hit.”

Archie spun around, glaring at her and pointed an accusing finger at her. “You’re not on your meds again, are you? I thought those fucking doctors beat this shit out of you.”

“No, but you can try," she suggested almost seductively. 

“Stop it. Just fucking stop! I’m sick of this!”

“Sick of what?” she prodded.

“Sick of you! Sick of this twisted, sick mind of yours!”

“Then beat it out of me," she cooed. "Beat me like the useless woman I am."

“Do you want that?” he growled and came up to her side as she stood her ground. He leaned in close to her neck and she smelt a scent that was not his own.

“Come on Arch, you used to love this game. Rough all night. You loved it. So, let's get rough," she taunted.

Archie recoiled, holding back his anger with a disgusted scoff. “You’re a mother now. You can’t walk around like that anymore.”

“Uh yes, a lady in white, I think the term is." She had an evil glint in her eye. A sarcastic smile on her lips. "No, you don’t want people to see the scars you inflict on people. However, I think even these dumb neighbours are seeing right through you. Through me. It doesn’t take a genius to see that the cuts aren’t on my skin.”

“You’re a sick twisted bitch,” he growled.

“We’ve established that. No, let’s talk about you. Come on, baby, just for me, tell me what you are.”

“A man working damn hard to provide for his family.”

“Really? Working hard?” she asked like she didn't believe him.

“Yes,” he growled. His arms shaking in front of him like he was strangling the air.

“If fucking your secretary is working hard then I guess yes. Yes, you are. That lipstick on your collar and strand of black shiny hair -” she reached up and snagged it out of his hair, pulling it down so he could see. “- here, oh and that perfume. Yes, this is working hard, my love.”

“You’re off your rocker,” he muttered. "This conversation is over."

“Am I? Well then, in that case, if you haven’t fucked in the last hour, let’s have sex right now. Right this fucking second.”

“No," he said quietly, moving to get away.

“No,” Elizabeth chastised. “No, because you’re getting it elsewhere.”

“I don’t have to report to you. What I do is my business," he said, his tone now calm.

“What you do _is_ my business as your fucking wife!" she yelled. "But we haven’t been that fricken ever! We were a fling that got dragged way past its due date.”

Archie snapped as well. “Shut it! Just shut up. I won’t let your crazy antics screw everything up.”

“Oh, you underestimate me. I can make things much worse. So, so much worse. Let me, go Arch, and be free. It’s time.”

“No," he said like his word was final and he slashed at the air with his hand.

“Archie, leaving now will be better than having your rep destroyed-”

“This will destroy me!” he yelled.

Elizabeth scoffed. “Always worrying about what mommy and daddy will think-”

Archie slapped her for the second time that night. This time with enough force to knock her to the ground. She smiled as she wiped the blood from her lip. “Nice. Go on. Again. It just makes this easier. This can destroy you, even more, when the media finds out you beat your wife. They will be all over you. Good luck running for office then.”

“You’ll keep your mouth shut. Or I'll keep it shut. You hear me? I won’t have you ruin my chance.”

“Let me go before it’s too late. You can’t afford to have a crazy wife ruin your campaign.”

“You’ll do your job. You will keep silent," he threatened. He was not intimidated by her but Elizabeth was not even trying yet.

“Why?” Elizabeth growled. “Because you need the picket fence image, right? Not a broken home. Though I don’t think the divorce in the middle of a campaign will be a good image.”

“You can’t divorce me. You’ll have nothing," Archie pointed out.

“I don’t need anything. I’ll get my son. That’s all I need. Plus, it will destroy you.”

“Or let’s think of the alternative where I put you in the mental ward, and the people will feel sympathetic," Archie threatened, gesturing to her. "You'll stay or you won't see Christopher."

“True that angle works, but then you’re the one who beat his wife into insanity in the first place.”

Archie launched himself at Elizabeth and grasped her, shaking her violently. “You horrid bitch! You ruin my life.”

“Then let me go!”

“Never! You will stay and look after my son, and that is all. Be a grateful bitch for once and do what you’re told.” Archie let her go once more and locked himself in the bathroom.

Elizabeth hugged herself, feeling frustrated and glanced out at the lit street outside her window. She’d stood Jughead up tonight for this prick. She needed to start putting herself first. She couldn’t feel any guilt for finding company in another’s arms when her husband wasn’t even open.

“Jug,” she whispered. Grabbing her coat off the back of the chair she’d left it on, she smiled. She walked out of the door and left. She deliberated taking the car and decided to walk. She needed to clear her mind.

* * *

 

By the time she’d walked to town, it was pouring buckets and she was now soaked. She raced into the bar she’d been to the night before, panting from the sprint and soaked to her skin from the rain.

Hands found her hips and someone whispered in her ear, “You stood me up.”

“I’m just really late," she exasperated.

“Four hours to be exact.”

“He doesn’t love me.” Jughead kept silent. “I should care but I don’t. I don’t even feel guilty about doing this.”

She turned around in his arms, his dark hair hanging over his eyes. She blinked at him before he grasped her face and kissed her roughly.

She’d planned on doing that but he beat her to it. His mouth pressed urgently against hers, bruising her lips. She was probably soaking his own clothes with the amount of rain dripping from hers. Their bodies pressed against each other tightly.

She couldn’t get enough of the taste of him, her hands wrapping around his neck, and she tasted the sourness of the drink he’d had. Eventually, they pulled up for breath when a woman coughed beside them.

“You’re blocking the exit,” the woman said. “Move.”

Elizabeth glanced at Jughead as he scowled and pulled her close, while also moving them out of the way. “Wanna get out of here,” he asked quietly when he finally glanced back at her.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

Jughead took her hand and led them out into the drenching rain. He took them down the road, then down an alleyway where Elizabeth became confused. “Where are we going,” she called out.

“Parked back at the garage.”

“You didn't anticipate for rain!”

Jughead turned back at her and smiled, pulling her to him by the small of her back. “No, but the best things in life can’t be accounted for.”

He kissed her again. The heavens pouring down on them from above, soaking them below. It didn't seem to deter them. While both their clothes made everything heavier, the heat radiating from them kept them warm enough.

Jughead begged for entrance to her mouth; swiping his tongue along her bottom lip. She resisted, only to tease him. She then groaned as Jughead laid suckling kisses at the hollow of her throat.

Her ponytail plastered to the back of her neck, she could already feel the cold she was going to suffer through later. She couldn’t afford to get sick because then her son might and a child being sick was worse.

“Juggy,” she groaned. “What are we doing?”

“Something that feels right.”

Elizabeth couldn’t agree more. Though she didn't know everything about this man, she knew he drove her wild with desire. Something that made her head get fuzzy.

Jughead pulled her tighter against him, her back then collided against a brick wall and the wind was knocked out of her. Jughead bit her lip and tugged, keeping her solely focused on him and that wicked mouth.

His hand came up to grasp her face. She flinched and gasped, pulling away from him when his hand brushed her cheek.

“Shit, you okay?” he muttered.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m fine.”

He squinted, raindrops running down his face and he studied her carefully for the first time. “Your face is swollen,” he observed.

Elizabeth took in a deep breath. “Just a little,” she said.

“He beat you,” he said quietly. An angry, subtle undertone haunted his voice.

“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted.

“The hell it does,” he said quietly.

“Please.” She grasped at his hands and held them. “Just take me away.”

Jughead grabbed her hand and took her to the back of the garage. He hopped on a motorcycle and offered his helmet. “Hopping on?”

“Haven’t been on one of these in years.”

“Then I’m sure it’s time to get back on.”

She did. She would go easily. She jumped on the back, wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight as he sped off.


	3. Call Me Crazy

Betty had never felt more alive. She felt as if she could fly if she let go of his waist. Yet she held on tight, her fingers digging in a little more than necessary.

“We are almost there, Elizabeth,” Jughead called out over the roar of the bike and wind.

“Call me Betty!” she called back with glee. As they wound through the trees, most might think she was been taken somewhere to be murdered, but to her, it was a thrill. The rush of adrenaline an old friend that made her holler with glee.

Jughead’s grin, his hair blowing in the wind made him look like James Dean.

Betty cried out, raising her hands in the air.

Jughead tried to keep the bike steady and straight so she wouldn’t fall off.

Betty saw it before they stopped. The lights of her town below in the valley.

“Oh my gosh,” she whispered as she climbed off the bike. She walked out right to the edge of the cliff. No barrier to stop her from falling to her death. She didn’t even notice.

She glanced out over the horizon as the rain came to a stop. With a flick of her head, she pulled off the helmet and Jughead watched her from his seat on his bike.

“Something tells me you don’t get out much.”

“What gave it away?” She glanced at him over her shoulder, a smirk of glee on her face.

Jughead then arose from his seat, nearly tossing the bike to the side as he made a beeline for her. Grabbing the helmet from her hand, he tossed it to the side, hearing it skirt across the gravel.

His eyes didn’t leave hers as his hand slid up to cup the small of her back. Pulling her against him, their faces were inches apart, yet no one moved.

“Betty,” he said softly.

“Jughead.”

He leaned his forehead against hers.

“Betts.”

“Jug,” she whispered back teasingly.

Jughead then closed the distance between their mouths. Hot, blistering heat licked up her spine and flushed her cheeks with red. Sizzling fragments of sparks seemed to lick her fingertips before she smoothed them over his neck. Her fingers curling around, touching the soft short curls at the back of his head.

“Where have you been,” she whispered. The words left her mouth in a rush and she wanted to take them back.

“Waiting.”

Betty pulled back, surprised by his deep, truthful confession.

“What does that mean?” She pulled out of his hold.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said simply. “Who knew you were only a few blocks away.”

“I’m still a few blocks away. I’m married.”

“For now.”

Betty’s mouth popped open. “You think yourself special enough to break up my marriage?”

“You haven’t seen what I can do with my mouth,” he said with a wicked grin.

Betty blushed crimson before scoffing and desperately to brush it off.

“No, Betty,” he said softly. “I don’t want to break up your marriage. I wouldn’t touch you if I didn’t think you needed it.”

“How do you know I need it?” she said quietly. It was an almost worried tone mixed with confliction.

“I just can.”

“I have a son.”

“And?”

“I can’t run around with another man that is not his father," she explained.

“I’m not asking you to.”

“I know you’re not. I’m telling myself.” Betty then turned and faced out to the town lights once more. Her arms came up to hug herself. “My son is everything to me and I don’t have the heart to destroy everything that protects him for my own happiness.”

“I understand.”

“Part of me wishes you wouldn’t.”

“It’s the part of you that wants what's good for you.”

“What?”

“You want out, Betty. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t,” he said softly. His stupid words were making sense and she hated that she always knew that was true.

She scoffed. “Well yeah. Obviously.”

Jughead grabbed her by her arm gently to turn her around. “You want to know what being happy feels like again.”

“I can’t though.”

“Not yet,” Jughead softly. “But you will.”

He then turned her in his arms, tucked her back against him and rested his chin on her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her tightly and they watched the twinkle of the lights.

* * *

Betty stepped off the bike, insisting that she would be okay.

“I might see you later," she said.

“Might? Because you don’t want to or you because he’ll keep you hostage?”

“You’re so funny,” she said sarcastically. “No, if you’re lucky.”

“Let me give you my number then.” His hand had already slid along her thigh and into her pocket before she could protest. He dialled it in and put it right back in its place again. “Seriously, call if you need to.”

“Or what?”

“Don’t test me, Betty,” he said with a smirk.

Jughead glanced at the house and looked at the soft light coming from the lounge.

“Oh yes, I forget, you’re a gang leader. Silly me,” she said sarcastically.

“Don’t forget it,” he breathed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Betty glanced at the house and realised she was stalling.

“Thank you for tonight. Really. I’ll see you.”

“I see you,” he said, his voice low.

Betty paused on her walk up the sidewalk. “No. You don’t,” she said simply.

Jughead watched her with a frown. “I will,” he muttered.

Betty then slipped into the house with a wave goodbye.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Archie growled, slamming her against the wall. The front door was slammed shut with his other hand.

“Out,” she replied breathlessly, but with no fear whatsoever.

“You’re selfish, you know that? There is no fucking doubt those neighbours heard that dick on the bike.”

“So are you.” Betty shoved at him hard, making him stumble back a few steps. She tugged on her jacket to right it before she ran her hand down her ponytail to make it slick once more. “Goodnight, Archie,” she said before she stepped around him.

Archie was never one to be a pushover. He would have the last word no matter what.

Christopher appeared at the top of the stairs and Betty froze. Instincts kicked in and Elizabeth felt her world come back to into that box she’d been in. Her perfect, white fence caging her impulses as she thought about the consequences.

“Bed,” she said, reaching out to climb the stairs. Christopher then ran into his room before he saw his father’s rage.

Archie did not notice his son, only the red surrounding his vision. He reached out to grab his wife when a heavy hand came down on his shoulder. Like a wind-up doll, Archie’s head wrenched around to glare murder.

“Jones,” Elizabeth whispered sadly.

Jughead only froze momentarily before he grabbed Archie’s shirt with both hands, ripping him out of reach of Elizabeth. “Archie, I assume,” Jughead stated like it was a fact.

He head-butted Archie, not even flinching or wincing when Archie stumbled backwards like a drunk would. His eyes half-cast, his limbs unreliable, Archie hunched over before he collapsed to the ground.

Jughead then got really low, crouching over Archie’s body. His arms resting on his thighs, his hands loose, he was a predator and Elizabeth just stood and watched. She should have stopped Jughead, but she couldn’t help but feel like Archie deserved what he got.

Jughead then flicked Archie’s forehead to wake him up, and the glare he got only amused him. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Jughead stated simply. “Today,” he added with a deadly tone. “You touch her, I’ll touch you. You understand?”

“Sorry, I don’t do guys,” Archie snarled.

“Something tells me that part isn’t a problem,” Jughead said before he got to his feet and made eye contact with Elizabeth. “You okay?”

Elizabeth nodded, wrapped her arms around herself and bit her lip. “Stupid question,” Jughead said with a small smile. “You’re tougher than I am.”

Elizabeth couldn’t meet his eyes. She seemed to be shrinking in size.

Jughead nodded, noting he probably shouldn’t have interfered. Watching her get dragged into the house scared him half to death and he couldn’t help his reaction.

“Betty,” he said softly, telling her goodbye.

“Elizabeth,” she said ever so quietly.

Jughead paused and frowned. He tried to understand her sudden change, he looked at the way she held herself and couldn’t understand. She’d disappeared. Her posture was straight, restrained and stiff. Her face was straight, almost sad as she tucked herself uptight. She was reserved. She was unrecognizable.

Jughead then sniffed and straightened his jacket before he stepped out into the cold air of the night without looking back.

“I swear to god if this gets in the papers, I’ll murder you,” Archie threatened as he rolled to his side.

“Yes, dear,” she said before she headed upstairs, taking each step cautiously by clutching the guardrail. Elizabeth then locked herself in the en-suite of their bedroom.

She felt the walls of her house closing in once more and felt cold to the bone. She ripped off her leather jacket, throwing it against the wall with a lot of force. It was like a loud smack to her senses.

Her skin felt too tight. Her hair pulled up into its tight, neat ponytail was cutting off the circulation and giving her a headache. She almost yanked out her hair with the tie, her hair falling down in waves. She then hunched over, her hair falling around her like a wet curtain, and she buried her face in her hands.

Betty Cooper let out a frustrated cry and Elizabeth Andrews arose from the distress, calmer than ever.

“I am a housewife,” she repeated to herself over and over.

Seeing her son so vulnerable, it reminded her why she must endure. He needed a roof over his head and food. Something she couldn’t provide on her own now. She was uneducated and had no family connections left to rely on if she walked out. She’d almost screwed up everything.

“Liz,” Archie muttered. His voice carried through the wood separating them and made a shiver run up her spine. “Liz.” He tapped on the door.

She wrenched open the door with a fake smile. Her proper posture, her hair in loose waves around her face and her soft curves might have fooled some into thinking she was a good wife. A happy, content wife.

Archie knew better. “Back in your headspace?” he said quietly. He almost seemed sad. Not angry anymore, he was less aggressive in the way he spoke and almost seemed apologetic. Almost. He would never apologise.

Archie had witnessed her slip over the years. Watched her break out but nothing this bad. This sort of reaction happened a lot at the start of this picture-perfect life because she couldn’t handle it, but she hadn’t reacted like this in a long time and this might have been her worst outburst yet.

He wasn’t totally cold. He did have feelings and while most of the time he resented what became of them, he couldn’t just end it all. There was so much riding on this family working. Divorce didn’t look good to his relative family, the media and the public. He couldn’t throw it all away for a better, happier life.

“Yes, dear,” Elizabeth said. “I’m sorry.”

Archie felt his muscles tense. It was a fake submission but it was the best he could get from her. It was all he could ask of her. While he preached about him working hard, she did too. She looked after their son and the household well. She kept the image wholesome most days and that was good enough.

“Come to bed then,” he said.

“Give me a minute, I just have to get ready for bed.”

Archie then closed the door behind him, to leave her in peace. Elizabeth then turned to face her own reflection in the mirror and a scream bubbled up in her throat.

Archie heard the scream, knew it was coming but didn’t flinch or move. He sat in the single sofa chair of their bedroom, which was positioned in the furthest corner of the room, under the soft glow of the standing lamp to his left. His fingers tapping against the armrest, while he clenched a stiff whisky in his other hand. He stared into the blank space between the bed and the bathroom.

Elizabeth then emerged from the bathroom, stripped off her clothes like it was nothing and slipped into her nightgown before quickly and efficiently crawling into bed. “Goodnight, Archie,” she said and switched off her lamp that rested on her nightstand.

The room still held the light of his bedside lamp and the lamp by his seat he pondered in now. He was mulling over the events of today. He was going to be truly pissed if his neighbours started to gossip about a biker dropping his wife off in the middle of the night.

He scrubbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb. “Elizabeth.”

All was silent but he knew she wouldn’t be asleep. What almost seemed like a lifetime passed before Elizabeth switched on her light and sat up in the bed to face him. “Yes?”

“You’re not to see him again.”

The movement of her mouth showed she was running her tongue along the inside of her gums and cheek as she gave a blank stare. “Yes, dear.”

“I mean it. This lifestyle goes away with those accusations.”

“I know.” She went to turn away again but paused only a fraction to say, “In turn, you might want to stop your own affair. That’s one thing you can’t blame me for if everything comes crashing down.”

Archie ground his molars together as Elizabeth returned back to her slumber position.

“Where do you suppose I get it from then, Elizabeth?”

She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t necessarily want to sign herself for the task as she couldn’t think about him touching her without wanting to scream.

“Learn to masturbate like the rest of us, dear.”


	4. Mommy's New Friend

Elizabeth knew the feeling well. It was a sick to her stomach feeling that she’d made some sort of mistake. 

“Mommy?”

Elizabeth’s hands clenched the kitchen bench harder. She took in a deep breath, tore her blank gaze away from the sink and glanced over her shoulder, hoping she didn’t look too upset.

“Yes, Bubba?” Elizabeth grasped her mug she’d put down before and turned to face a sad boy, dangling his feet over his chair.

“Is the scary man gonna hurt me too?”

“Pardon?”

“A man came to our house,” he said abruptly.

Elizabeth felt her whole world come crashing around her, making her ears red.

“What did you see?” she said, crouching down to his level, using his chair back to hold her balance.

“Daddy fell over.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. This was the worse thing that could happen. She didn’t care about reputation, she cared about her son and he was scared by the very man who had tried to save her.

“I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth hiccupped. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stop the sob and stood to her full height.

“He stopped daddy hurting you again,” Christopher said quietly.

Elizabeth paused, glanced down at him and her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

The boy hugged his chair, pressing his plump cheek against the polished wooden back.  
Elizabeth felt a horror wash over her. “Daddy doesn’t hurt mommy, Bubba.”

The boy’s red, splotchy cheeks wobbled as he shook his head. “Daddy makes you fall over too.”

Elizabeth bent down and picked him up. “Listen okay. We were just playing. Mommy’s fine, see? So, don’t you tell any of your friends, okay?”

Elizabeth then nodded her head curtly, not even letting him finish his breakfast as she grabbed her purse, his backpack and hurried out the door. In a frantic mess to not let things fall out of hand, she tried to assure Christopher’s schedule remained the same. She refused to let his world blow up.

She strapped her little tike into his car seat and tried her best reassuring smile. “You’re gonna have a good day today and forget all about last night. It was just a bad dream and never gonna happen again. I promise.” She straightened her back. “I won’t let it,” she muttered.

“Daddy scares me,” he said quietly.

“What’s that?”

“Daddy is a scary man.”

* * *

Elizabeth found herself diverted from her journey to the supermarket. Instead, she was sitting in her car that was parked in front of the very bar she’d been in one too many times.

Her hands clenched the steering wheel tighter as she repeated to herself over and over that she should not go in. She needed to resist the impulse.

Keys back in the ignition, she began to reverse out of the space. Turning her wheel, a man left the bar and watched her attempt to escape.

Her whole body froze, unable to push the accelerator to leave the carpark entirely.

The man then folded his arms over his chest, giving her a look of annoyance.

Elizabeth clenched the wheel until her knuckles were white before she took off out of the carpark, glancing back at the hardened, frustrated Jughead in her rear-view mirror.

A horn blared and Elizabeth had no time to panic before oncoming traffic rammed into the side of her vehicle.

The car was pushed sideways a good ten feet before everything came to a halt.

Elizabeth felt disoriented as she tried to gain her bearings. Her vision slightly blurry, she reached around and felt sharp stabbing pains in her palms. Bringing her palms up, she saw red but didn’t understand what it meant or what it was.

Vague sounds of voices and other noises made her head hurt more.

Unable to grasp her surroundings, she had no concept of danger or understanding of her situation.  
Cold air hit her side before warmth surrounded her and then she felt like she was airborne.

Pressed against a solid mass, she kept her eyes closed and felt her mind go blank.

* * *

Elizabeth woke with what could be considered the worst kind of headache. Unable to feel anything but pain, her hands clenched her head to make the pounding stop.

She tried to sit up and felt much protest from her muscles but managed it. She then opened her eyes slowly and found there was no blistering light like she thought she would.

The room was dim, with only the light of a lamp in the far corner.

She did not recognise the place at all and when her vision got a little better and she slowly emerged from the grogginess, she worried she’d been kidnapped.

Pushing herself up on to wobbly, sleepy legs, she glanced back at where she’d laid and realised she’d been sleeping in someone’s bed.

The sheets were white cotton, with only a thin, grey duvet on top. Glancing around she realised the bed was in the middle of an apartment. A kitchen in one corner, a sofa in the other; it was an industrial apartment with pipes, wood and exposed brick.

The only thing that separated the bed from the rest of the apartment was a non-transparent, stained glass. It might have been kind of cosy and stylish in a way had she not been completely freaking out.

“Here.”

Elizabeth turned around fast, her hands flying out to defend herself and then her eyes went wide.

Jughead stood before her in a white tank top and black jeans. His trademark beanie and a checkered flannel shirt wrapped around his waist, immediately told her it was him.

“Shit, you gave me a fright,” Elizabeth said.

Jughead held out his hand, gesturing again.

With a hand pressed to her heart, she reached out with the other to grab the glass of water he was offering.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Mommy, mommy!”

Betty turned around in a panic as Christopher ran full speed ahead to her. He seemed rather happy and unharmed.

Betty picked him up with ease, hugging him tightly. “How-” She turned to glare at Jughead. “How’d he get here?”

“You're welcome,” Jughead said and turned on his heel.

Christopher wiggled in her grasp, complaining that he wanted to get down.

On his feet, Christopher took off running after Jughead. Betty followed in horror.

In the open living room that consisted of a worn sofa and a small coffee table, Jughead sat on a soft rug around the coffee table, playing go fish with Christopher.  
Betty watched in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“How’s your head?” Jughead asked quietly, not meeting her gaze.

“Go fish!” Christopher said.

Jughead smiled. “I didn’t say a number yet, buddy,” he muttered.

“Four!” Christopher cried out.

Jughead then glanced at her in amusement, his dark strands of hair covering his eyes made it all the more sexier.

“It hurts,” Elizabeth said quietly, touching her forehead.

“I bet.” Jughead seemed to be sort of distant in the way he talked to her.

“Where are we?”

“My place,” he replied simply.

Elizabeth glanced around the apartment. “How did I get here?” She glanced down at Christopher. “How did he?”

“You were in a car accident. A mild concussion and some cuts. You needed your rest so I thought I better get this guy from daycare. Your husband sure didn’t.”

“How? How’d you know where it was? When it ended?” Elizabeth panicked, her motherly instincts firing to protect her son, she got closer to him.

“They called you on your phone," he said, not caring for her accusations.

Elizabeth glanced out the dirty, factory-like windows to see that it was dark outside.

“They just let you take him? On your bike?” Elizabeth cried out.

“I own a car as well and yes. Your son said I was his friend so the teacher waved it off.”

Elizabeth looked at her son with horror. “Chris?”

The boy looked up at her with a smile.

“Honey.” She dropped to her knees. “You know not to go home with strangers.”

“He’s not a stranger.”

“You don’t know him.”

The boy looked at Jughead with a look of confusion. Jughead changed his seated position as if uncomfortable.  
Christopher then ran into her arms and hugged her like he was worried he was in trouble.

“Don’t go home with strangers again, you hear me?” Elizabeth was furious with the daycare. Almost to the point of suing them, her anger seethed at their lack of care for their children. They just let her child go with someone they’ve never met on the word of a toddler.

“But he’s not a stranger,” Christopher said.

“Yes, he is.”

The boy shook his head. “No, he helps you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He fights the bad guys. He stops daddy from hurting you.”

Elizabeth looked between her son and Jughead before standing to her feet and dragging Christopher by his hand until they were on their own.

“Daddy doesn’t hurt mommy, okay?” Elizabeth said, crouching down to meet his height.

“He does. You cry.”

“No, honey. Mommy and daddy just play.”

The boy seemed confused and it was clear he wasn’t buying it. He was smart for a four-year-old, but she felt as a parent it was her responsibility to shield him from the reality of the world, at least for a little while longer.

“Mommy is okay, I promise.”

“You shouldn’t lie to him like that. He’s smarter than you think,” Jughead said.

Elizabeth straightened her back with a look of frustration on her face. “Stay out of it.”

“Kid’s been telling me all about it, Betts.”

Elizabeth looked down at Christopher who seemed to be staring longingly at Jughead.

“I’m not telling you how to parent. I’m just telling you can’t lie to him because he knows,” he said.

Elizabeth frowned even more, completely confused. “What time is it?”

“A little after eight.”

“Has he eaten?” she asked.

“I got him a kid’s meal from Pop’s after daycare, but other than that no.”

“Must be dinner time, Bubba.” She grabbed Christopher’s hand more tightly. “Time to go.”

“No,” Christopher shook his head. “I don’t wanna.”

“Daddy will be missing you.”

Christopher’s look of horror broke her heart before Christopher struggled out of her grasp and ran over to the living room, to throw himself on the sofa.

Jughead barely moved, just tucked his hands in his pockets.

“Where is my car?” she asked Jughead quietly, trying desperately not to break into tears.

“At my shop. Side is completely busted. It’ll take a while to fix.”

Elizabeth glanced around. “I need to get home. Archie will be wondering where we are.”

“You don’t have to go,” Jughead suggested quietly. “I can put you up for the night in my bed with Christopher. You’re still a little cut up, you should rest.”

“I can rest at home.”

“Can you?” he challenged.

Christopher’s head popped up from the couch and he pleaded, “Please mom! Please I wanna stay here.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “And put you out of your bed for the night? No. Archie wouldn’t like that.”

“Who gives a fuck what he thinks,” Jughead growled. Christopher ducked his head again, and Jughead glanced back at him before bowing his head, closing his eyes in frustration. “Sorry,” he muttered genuinely.

Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest. “He’s heard worse.”

Jughead let out a sigh before he shifted his weight onto his other leg. Both of them stood, with their arms crossed, facing each, not giving an inch.

Jughead then took one step forward. “Let me take care of you for one night. I’ll drive you home in the morning.”

Elizabeth bit her lip as it seemed a little tempting. All she wanted to do is curl up and rest right now. If she went home she’d be faced with yelling and her son would probably hear it. If Archie dared to hurt her, it’d only confirm Christopher’s own mother was a liar.

“Please mommy, please!”

“Christopher,” she scolded. “We have to go,” she said but this time it held less force.

Christopher ran as fast as he could in a tantrum and clung Jughead’s leg which surprised her. “I’m staying with Jug.”

Jughead seemed shocked too by the small thing hanging around his leg. “Better do what your mom says.”

“No!” Christopher shouted like a brat.

Elizabeth looked between Jughead and Christopher all the while holding herself. She looked at the way Jughead stood now. He held a lot of threat and dominance everywhere else but right now, he was as harmless and soft as a teddy-bear. He was of no threat to Christopher and somehow her son knew that. That’s why her son trusted him. That’s why he clung to him now in a way he never has with his own father.

If Christopher felt safer here with a gang leader than he did at home with his father, that was saying something huge. Betty’s heart fluttered and her stance softened as the threat seemed to fade.

“Fine, one night,” Betty said. She glanced up to meet Jughead’s eyes. “But I call going first at Go Fish,” she said with a mischievous, glint in her eye.

The look of shock, maybe anger, vanished on his face and Jughead met her gaze with a mischievous look of her own. Though his intentions were probably far more sinister than her own. The way he looked at her made her want to melt.

Christopher tackled her leg. “Yay!”

Betty brushed his hair, running her fingers through it. “We need to get you fed first.”

“I’ll sort that. You sit down,” Jughead said, gesturing to the couch.

Betty picked up Christopher and walked them into the open living area once more, where she tucked herself up with him.

Jughead then passed her remote to a small TV in the corner. “Doesn’t get many channels. More for movies,” he said as he walked away once more. “Oh,” he said as he paused.

She looked up in surprise before he pulled out her cell phone from his back pocket. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be back in fifteen. Make yourself at home.”

Betty almost felt sad that he was leaving but tucked herself up tighter with her son, feeling her whole body relax further into the cushions.

* * *

Jughead arrived back home to see Christopher jumping up and down in excitement as his mother went through the stack of DVDs. Bent over on all fours, her finger dragged along the titles and had yet to notice his presence. Placing the bags of groceries down, along with his boots, he tiptoed as quietly as he could over towards them.

With a finger pressed to his lips, Jughead gestured to Christopher to be quiet when he saw him. Christopher mirrored him with a cheesy grin, thinking this was a good game.

Jughead then crawled on his hands and knees up behind her to pinch her behind.

She reared back and glanced at Christopher who was laughing like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. His little hands on his knobbly knees, he hunched over till he almost fell over.

“Christopher!” she scolded.

Jughead did the whole thing once more and once again she scolded Christopher, thinking he'd pinched her.

“Don’t pinch mommy!” she cried out. 

Jughead then moved quickly, pulling up alongside her to whisper in her ear. “Why not?”

Betty almost jumped out of her skin and rolled sideways. Her hand on her heart, she panted and then glared at him. “Not funny.”

“It was pretty funny,” Jughead said as he got to his feet.

Betty stared after him then to her son who was still laughing from the whole ideal.

With a roll of her eyes, she got to her feet and snatched up a DVD. “So you’re into old movies, huh?” she said.

Jughead was now in the kitchen, very close by as it was just in the corner. He gave her a smile and flipped the pan in his hand. “Yep. Do you not like them?”

“Sure, I might. I’m not so sure he will,” she said, running a hand through Christopher’s hair.

“Well, I’ll remember to get kid-friendly movies next time.”

Betty scoffed. “What makes you think there will be a next time?”

“You haven’t seen what I can do with my hands.”

Betty tried not to get flustered. His words were simple and innocent enough. Last time his mouth had kissed her so innocent and sweetly she almost forgot herself. This time, it seemed his hands were whipping them up dinner. However, the sexual innuendos were so difficult to not get flustered over. He really was a flirt.

She put on _A Streetcar Named Desire_ because she hadn’t seen it before but had heard a lot about it. It was a sort of bucket list movie.

Jughead seemed a little worried about her pick but otherwise said nothing. He focused on preparing dinner instead.

When the abusive themes showed up Christopher hid his face. The woman’s scream made him cover his ears.

“Oh,” Betty said. “Definitely not good for kids.”

Jughead was already stopping it with the remote in his hand. Flicking it over to the best channel there was, Christopher began to watch a documentary on penguins and seemed much happier.

Christopher dropped to his knees on the ground, leaning on the coffee table and completely abandoned her for a closer look at basically fluffy birds.

Jughead placed a bowl of mince stir-fry in front of Christopher and then handed her a bowl as well.

“Thanks.” She glanced at Christopher who seemed to be pushing the food around with his fork. “Christopher, what do you say?”

“Thank you,” he muttered, unhappy.

Jughead sat opposite him, leaning over the coffee table. “I’ve got ice-cream too.”

“Really?” Christopher pushed himself up with a squeal.

“Hey, hey,” Jughead gestured for him to come closer like it was a secret. “Don’t blow our cover, buddy. I can’t be seen given you ice-cream so you have to be really quiet.”

Betty then fixed her gaze on the screen and smiled. In her peripheral vision, Christopher looked up to stare at her. “Okay,” Christopher whispered.

“So here’s the plan," Jughead said. "You’re gonna eat that and then I’m gonna sneak you some ice-cream, okay? But you gotta eat because I’ve got no other bowls to use. So you got clean up that one for me, okay?”

Christopher nodded and began to eat almost immediately. Somehow, he didn’t choke or pretend to gag like he did when I tried to get him to eat vegetables. What took hours of time at the dining table, waiting for him to eat, now took Jughead thirty seconds to make him comply.

Jughead glanced up at her and their gazes met. With a sly wink, he smirked and she mouthed ‘thank you’.

Christopher even finished within half an hour of starting and Betty felt a joy she didn’t know she could feel. He’d eaten what had been put in front of him.

Jughead patted Christopher on his back. “Well done, buddy. That was record time. Didn’t taste too bad, did it?” he asked like he was worried.

“No, it was yummy.”

Jughead leaned in. “Secret Ingredient.”

“Really? What is it?”  
  
“Can’t tell you. You’ll have to kill me first.”  
  
Christopher launched himself over the table, his hand swiping at him. “I’ll get you,” he said.  
  
Jughead laughed and fell to the ground. “No!” he cried out playfully.  
  
“Chrissy. Careful now,” Betty said with a laugh.  
  
Jughead immediately sat up and set him on his little feet. Jughead glanced at Betty before he leaned in close to Christopher and whispered, “I think it’s operation secret ice-cream time.”  
  
Christopher pressed his little finger against his lips and hushed him. “Shh, she’ll hear you.”

Jughead then sat up with a grin. “I’m just gonna wash up now,” he said louder than he should.  
  
Christopher laughed and followed after him, stomping his feet excited.

Jughead grabbed her bowl as he passed by, his fingers brushing over hers intentionally. She watched him with her own stupid grin before realising he had a train; a little boy holding on to the back of his checked shirt that hung around his waist.

Christopher waved at her as he went along and she shook her head, all the while with pursed lips.

After the dishes were sparkling clean and dried, Jughead bent down to Christopher’s height. “Alright, I think I’ve figured it out. We’re going to give your mom some ice-cream too. That way she won’t get jealous.”

Christopher noticed more bowls on a shelf up high and pointed. "Hey, I found more bowls."

"Oh, wouldn't you know there is more! I totally forgot they were there. Good thing you liked your dinner so much."

"It was yummy!"  Christopher laughed and nodded his head.

Jughead then ruffled his hair before he scooped jelly tip swirl into three bowls. It was basically a vanilla ice-cream with flakes of chocolate, all the while having a smooth swirl of jelly throughout. It catered to the vanilla, chocolate and strawberry kind, and yet remained delicious.

“All right, buddy.” Jughead bent slightly to place a bowl in Christopher’s hands. “Both hands. Right. Take this to your mom. We must always treat our ladies first.”  
Christopher agreed before he trotted off.

“Here, Mommy!” he said and gifted her the bowl. “It’s for you.”

“Jelly tip swirl? Why thank you!”

“You’re welcome!” he said and did a small bow before running into the kitchen for his own. His arms extended overhead, his hands clenching over and over again, grabbing at the air for his own made Betty bite her lip.

“Manners, Christopher,” she warned.

When Christopher got his own he was happy as can be. He sat on that rug stuffing his face till there was none left.

* * *

An hour later, Christopher was passed out on the ground. After dessert, Betty had cleaned his face before they played a game of Go Fish which tired him out before round three. 

Jughead had remained seated on the ground while Betty had enjoyed the comfort of the sofa. Jughead had made no intimate move all night, even though he flirted a little. Saying small things that went right over Christopher’s head.

Though now as it was just them left playing a game that was somewhat childish, she started to notice how distant he was, no matter how friendly he was.

“Go Fish. Where’d you grow up?” Betty asked.

“Riverfalls. Got a seven?”

“Go fish.”

“Where did you meet Mr Charming?” Jughead muttered.

“Bar. Have you got a six?” she replied curtly.

“Go Fish. Bar, huh?”

Betty shrugged. “He wasn’t always a stick. He liked that I was wild. Liked that I was fun.”

Jughead leaned forward. “Who wouldn’t?” Jughead then placed down a pair of cards. “What changed?”

“Everything. Got a queen?” she said quickly.

“Not yet.”

Betty looked up at him, a square look in her eyes before she hid behind her cards. “Where is your place? As in where is here?”

“Same place you were this morning.”

“What do you mean?” Betty asked, a curious look in her eye.

“We’re above the bar. I own it, remember?”

“Oh.”

“Got a king?” he asked. His eyes held her gaze.

“Uh,” she muttered and glanced at her cards. “No.”

“Didn’t think so.”

Betty then frowned. “Are we playing cards or what?”

“I stopped playing a while ago. What about you?”

“You’re just full of innuendos, aren’t you?” Jughead shrugged. Betty rolled her eyes before she picked up her phone. “Ugh. I better put this one into bed.”

Elizabeth picked her son up off the ground before tucking him into the crook of her neck.

“Want some help?” he muttered.  
  
Betty seemed taken back. Her husband hadn’t even asked that question once.  
  
“Uh, no thanks. I got it,” she said quietly.  
  
Tucking her little man into bed, she kissed his forehead and he barely stirred.  
  
When she turned back to the living room to say goodnight, Jughead was sitting on the sofa, his back to her.  
  
She went with her impulses and her feet padded against the wooden floor on her way. “I feel bad about kicking you out of your bed.”

Jughead scoffed. “I fall asleep on this couch as much as I do that bed. It doesn’t faze me.”  
  
Betty pulled her jacket around her tighter before she pulled up alongside him. Sitting down beside him, Jughead barely moved, barely acknowledged it.

“Bit hard to sleep with you on my bed," he said.  
  
“Is it?” Betty felt even more guilty about taking up his bed for the night. She didn’t want to cause him to lose sleep.  
She wasn’t sure if this was him flirting about her being so close or he didn’t like strangers in his house.  
  
“Yes, you’re literally in the way.”  
  
“Oh,” Betty whispered and glanced down at the couch beneath her. “Oh, I see. Sorry.”  
  
Jughead’s hand came down on her knee. “I’m not tired yet, so you’re okay.”  
  
Betty nodded, her hands clutching together on her waist. “Christopher’s quite scared of him,” Betty said quietly. “I feel so awful. He’s scared of his own dad.”  
  
“That’s not your fault.”  
  
“Isn’t it? I’m the reason he’s angry all the time.”  
  
“Everyone is responsible for their own actions.”  
  
“I make him crazy. I know just how to get a reaction out of him and I do it because-” Betty paused. She ran a hand over her face and scoffed. “I do it because I just want to feel something. Anything. It’s better than nothing.”  
  
“He ignores you?”  
  
“He forgets me. He forced me to be in this ridiculous mould so I would fit his needs, except it doesn’t. I’m no longer the fun, hot bitch he used to tangle with. I’m his boring housewife.”  
  
“You’re anything but boring.”  
  
“You haven’t seen me at home.”  
  
“I have. You were completely different.”  
  
“Yeah, well I have to be. For Christopher’s sake.”  
  
“You called me Jones.”  
  
“Yeah," she said simply.   
  
“You wanted me to call you, Elizabeth.”  
  
“It’s who I am in that household. Out here, with you.” Betty bit her lip. “With you, I feel like Betty again. I feel like the old me.”  
  
“Like Betty Cooper.” Jughead then proceeded to lean forward a little. Angling his head, he got close to her.  
  
Betty licked her bottom lip. “Yeah, like Betty Cooper.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and support guys. It really motivates me to write the next one.


	5. Facade

Jughead leaned all the way in until his lips brushed hers. His hand already on her knee slid up her thigh while his body angle changed to face her more. His other hand found her waist, holding her more tightly to her as his tongue brushed her bottom lip.

No rational thought in mind, Betty opened up more for him, not only in access to her body but all those protective barriers she had too.

Sure, he was winning her over with her son and that was so cliché but she couldn’t help it. Her own husband didn’t treat their son right and how could she deny Christopher of the happiness she hadn’t seen in a long time. Besides, she kind of had an obligation to pleasing her son’s hero. It’s only what a good mother would do.

“Betty,” he groaned against her mouth.

Her hands on his biceps, she clung to him desperately as she felt an overwhelming passion consume her.

“Mommy?”

Betty pulled away so fast Jughead fell forward. Throwing her arm over the back of the couch she looked behind her.

“Yeah, honey?”

“I can’t sleep,” Christopher said. His eyes barely open, he stood there rubbing his eyes with his fists.

“Alright, I’m coming,” she said.

“You would have,” Jughead muttered quietly.

She slapped his thigh before she stood to her feet. “Goodnight, Jughead.”

“Night, Betty.”

Betty climbed into bed with Christopher this time. Tucking him tight against her body, he closed his eyes immediately and softly eased. It was a little harder for herself. She’d been cockblocked by her own kid.

She ran her hand through his hair and sighed. It probably was for the best. She doubted much would have resulted from their kiss but she couldn’t get carried away with a man that she wasn’t legally attached to.

Christopher stirred in her arms.

“You okay, Chrissy?”

The boy merely hummed.

“You’re not going to tell daddy, are you?”

“Tell him what?”

“Never mind.”

* * *

Betty woke to the smell of bacon. Sitting up, she felt her stomach plunge as Christopher was not there.

“Give me your hands. Here. That’s a good boy. See you can do it.”

Faint voices made her rub her eyes and get to her feet quickly.

Christopher stood on a chair in the kitchen, a spatula in his hand and a look of glee on his face. Jughead was teaching him how to cook.

“What’s all this?” Betty said with a small smile.

“Oops. Busted,” Jughead said to Christopher. “Did you hear my secret ingredient?” he said to Betty with a glint of mischief in his eye.

“No?”

“Whew,” he exasperated. He then added a dramatic wipe of sweat off his forehead and Christopher laughed. “Our secret is safe, buddy.”

“We’re cooking breakfast, mommy,” Christopher said.

“Really?” Betty said and leaned back against the fridge.

“Jug is teaching me.”

“How nice of him,” Betty said.

Jughead leaned his weight on the counter and crossed his arms. “At the heat we’ve got the pan on, it might take a while,” he teased, watching the pan closely.

He then glanced up at Betty. “He was running ragged around the apartment so I thought I’d keep him busy so you could rest.”

“I don’t know how many times I’ve thanked you already.”

“You’ve thanked me enough.”

“I’d like to thank you more,” she teased.

Jughead raised his eyebrows. “Would you now?”

“Maybe when he’s at daycare.”

Jughead seemed rather amused, slowly putting a piece of bread on his tongue before closing his mouth. He was intentionally drawing his attention to his mouth and Betty clenched the fridge behind her to stop her from moving.

“I’d love to," he said. Then he turned away, the tone of his voice changing abruptly. "But I’ve got work." Betty tried not to feel too disappointed. She nodded when his playful gaze came back once more. "Some crazy lady drove out into traffic yesterday and destroyed her car," he said.

Betty laughed, hiding her face behind her hand. “Sounds crazy to me. What do you suppose she does?”

“Probably find someone who likes crazy," Jughead said, holding her gaze.

“Do you think she will?” Betty got a little closer, resting her hand on her son’s head.

Inches apart, Jughead looked her over once. “I think she has.”

* * *

Jughead had his friend Toni drive her and Christopher back instead, at her own request. She didn’t want to start up rumours that she was sneaking around with a man.

If anyone asked, she could say Toni was a relative.

The moment they walked through the door of her home she realised it had to be the weekend and she just hadn’t noticed.

Archie growled the moment he saw her, sitting in his chair in the living room, drinking his whiskey like a bitter old man.

“Go to your room,” Betty said, pushing Christopher in the direction of the stairs.

Christopher shook his head. “No.” His lip was stiff and he held his ground.

“Now.” Betty’s gaze did not leave Archie.

“No, I won’t leave you. Men protect women,” Christopher sulked.         

Archie cocked an eyebrow and Betty’s hands clenched. “What are you talking about, son?” Archie said.

“He’s young, he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Christopher, go to your room.” Betty already knew that Archie blamed her for everything and wasn’t scared necessarily of what he’d do to her, she just didn’t want her son here when it all went down.

“No, he’ll hurt you!” Christopher cried.

“Honey, he will not hurt me. Trust me,” Betty insisted and gave him a light shove.

Archie frowned, took another drink but otherwise didn’t say anything.

Christopher eventually went upstairs but was on the verge of crying as he did.

Betty turned around, folded her arms and scrunched her nose a little. “Try not to yell, he’s already afraid of you.”

“You poisoning his mind against me?” he snarled quietly, not meeting her gaze.

“No, I’ve been defending you. I don’t even know why.”

Archie scoffed. “Because I’m his father?”

“Who doesn’t care about him. He fears you.”

“Sons always fear their fathers. It’s the way it should be.”

“Not in the way of beating their mother.” Betty watched as Archie’s gaze snapped to her. You shouldn’t wrestle with a bully, she knew that, but she wasn’t in a submission frame of mind. She was tensing, ready for a fight, knowing it was inevitable he was going to get angry.

“You fricken encourage it,” Archie growled. Betty almost smirked but bit her tongue instead. Closing his eyes, Archie tried to keep his temper in check. “Trying to trigger me. Nice, Liz,” he muttered coldly.

“It’s not just your fists, Archie. He hears you yell. He’s worried you’re hurting me and now it is like I’m lying to him every day about it.”

Archie shook his head.

“We’ve got problems, yes. Maybe I have caused all this, but our problems shouldn’t become his," Betty said.

“Well, that’s something we both can agree on.” Archie sunk into his seat a little more.

Betty nodded her head. “Yes, now I think you should go see your son. Say hello. Be nice.”

Archie didn’t move. He sat there, all loose in his chair, the way a teenage male might slouch. He had his drink resting on the armrest and he was running his finger lightly around the top of the glass.

It was silent in the room, then a wave of tension seemed to tumble through as Archie gripped the sofa with his free hand and licked his bottom lip.  
He almost looked deranged.

Betty wanted to yell at him for being so stubborn and went to tell him to move again but he shifted in his seat and looked at her with a deadly gaze. “Where were you, Elizabeth?” he said darkly.

“Go talk to your son," Betty insisted.

“Where were you,” he bit out.

“Does it matter?”

Archie stood up in a rush, his hand a mind of its own as he tossed his whiskey glass to the side; it shattering over the polished, wooden floor of the living room.  
“I’m trying to be civil, Liz. Don’t fucking push me.”

Betty wanted to laugh at his “civil” nature but instead just stood her ground with her arms crossed. She shook her head, glanced upstairs unconsciously before leaning herself against the living room’s frame archway.

Archie looked too before he shook his head, probably blaming her for losing his temper.

“I had a car accident,” Betty said.

“What?”

“My car was wrecked and I was unconscious for twelve hours.”

“Why wasn’t I contacted?” Archie growled like he would have cared and wanted to know.  
She wasn’t actually able to answer whether he would care and that scared her a little.

“You were,” Betty growled. “You _apparently_ didn’t answer. There was no one to pick Christopher up from daycare.”

Archie’s expression turned to horror as a concerned father would. A wild expression on his face as his gaze became unfocused made it look like he was scared. It confused Betty a little. For someone who barely wanted anything to do with his son, he seemed to really care now.

“Who took care of him?” Archie breathed, his hand running through his hair.

Betty bit her lip, stared at her twiddling fingers and thought long and hard about telling him the truth.

“They brought him to the hospital. Where he stayed by my bedside until I woke. Then some lady dropped us off here. She was very kind.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“Why didn’t you collect our son?” Betty snapped back.

Gee, like he cared that much. He had been contacted and he didn’t pick up so how was this her fault? She was unconscious for half it. Yes, she should have called when she woke but who was she kidding. She didn’t really want to talk to him now, let alone on the phone.

Thinking about it, she probably should go to the actual hospital to make sure she didn’t damage her head. Why didn’t Jughead just take her to the hospital?

“I missed the call,” Archie explained.

“Why’d you miss the call? Why didn’t you call back?” Betty said, throwing her arms up in the air.

“I don’t call back numbers I don’t recognise.”

“So say I’m dead and no one picked him up, what then?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Betty stopped dead. She watched him bow his head, his shoulders sag and might have been fooled that he was genuinely sorry. “Well, that’s a first.”

“He’s okay, yes?” Archie muttered.

Betty ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek. Her arms tightened across her chest. “Yes, I think he is. He had a lot of fun, surprisingly.”

“In a hospital?”

Betty’s eyes widened before she scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Fun can happen anywhere, Archie. You just need to know how to find it.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s safe.” Archie ran a hand through his hair again. “And you,” he added.

Betty rolled her eyes. “Thank you for your concern. Though I think our bridges are well and truly burnt. Your son, however, that still might be redeemable.”

Archie then loosened his shirt by tugging it before he brushed past Betty and stalked up the stairs.

Betty let out a long breath of relief before her body sagged.

Hell. She was in hell.

* * *

Archie had tried to get his son to play but the boy tucked up tight and hugged his action figure. “I’m not going to hurt you, son.”

“You hurt Mommy,” he muttered.

“I shouldn’t have,” Archie said and sat down on the toddler’s bed. “I’m not going to anymore, alright? That was wrong of me.”

“I’ll hurt you if you do,” the boy threatened.

Archie let out a fake chuckle. “You do that, son.” Archie then picked the toddler up off the bed and gave him a small hug.

“My big man,” he said before he set him on his feet once more. “You’re the big man of the house now, yes?” Archie ruffled his hair.

The boy seemed unamused and unaffected by his words. “Don’t be mean to Mom.”

Archie made a criss-cross across his heart. “I’ll try, son.”

Archie then went right about finding Elizabeth who was in the kitchen and she seemed to be calmly cleaning.

“He hates me. Whatever you’ve said-”

“I’ve defended you,” she said without even flinching. “Don’t put the blame on me.”

“Then why does he think I beat you to a pulp?”

“Because he’s seen it with his own eyes. He’s seen you grab and throw me, Arch. That scares a kid.”

Archie pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a frustrated sigh. “For what it’s worth then I’m sorry. Let’s try to get past this and move on.”

“Fine by me,” Betty growled quietly.

Archie suddenly reached out and touched her. The touch felt a little strange. He touched her between her shoulder blades like a father would touch his daughter but then his hand slid up until it grasped her neck.

It wasn’t painful or frightening to Betty, she just hated the idea of being touched by him now. Knowing he touched someone else, completely ruined his touch for her.

“I hope you’ve been keeping your end of the bargain,” he muttered in her ear.

She repressed the shudder that tried to roll over her. “Like you’ve been keeping yours.”

“I have.”

Elizabeth turned around, breaking his hold on her. “Then let’s not argue,” she said disingenuously sweet.

She had that submissive smile once more but Archie narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “Good,” he muttered.

Betty smiled, playing coy. Yes, she promised sincerely that she’d been keeping her promise as well as he did. It wasn’t a lie.  
She could smell that pesky, feminine perfume and knew he’d been with her last night, or at least seen her close and personal.

He gripped her arm once more, surprising her so much that she jerked back. “We should try and build those bridges again,” he breathed in her ear. The smell of heavy whiskey on his breath made her scrunch up her nose.

The close proximity between them made Betty actually shudder and not in a good way, though Archie thought different. His hands and arms were like vines slowly wrapping themselves around her, suffocating her instead of making her feel strong like Jughead did.

“Okay?” Elizabeth said.

“For Chris’s sake,” Archie said like an afterthought.

Betty had to repress her scoff. She knew a lot of people used her son to get her to do the things they wanted. That was the way the world was. However, a man who used his son for sex was as disgusting as his cheating ways.

At least Jughead treated her son like a person, actually playing with him and teaching him stuff and even then, he never asked for sex from her as some sort of reward. He still treated her like she was a woman with feelings and not something to take advantage of.

Archie’s hand gripped her neck once more as he leaned in close. He towered over her in a way that did not scream protector but aggressor.

“Uh, yes,” Elizabeth muttered. “Okay.” She gripped his hand and tugged it away nicely. She didn’t want to anger him so close and gripping her like a vine. It made her think of that movie Christopher loved. Harry Potter. The devil’s snare was exactly like Archie. The more you panicked and fought back, the tighter his grip became.

So she calmed herself, slowly brushing his hands away even though they kept coming back. She was weaving her way through a complicated maze and trying to show as little emotion as possible.

“We should-” Archie’s hand slipped to her back, before pulling her against him and giving her that naughty look. A look that wasn’t working for her right now. “-build some bridges now.”

“Nice try, but you gotta seduce me first before we build that bridge again,” she said with a snort. She hoped she sounded playful and not disgusted by the very thought.

Archie then backed off rather than pursue something he knew wasn’t going to happen. “Fine.” He scratched the back of his head. “I’ve got some work to do. I guess I’ll see you at dinner.”

“You’re leaving?”

“No, I’ll work from my desk here. I’ll fix myself lunch.”

She nodded, before dropping her head and rubbing her arms as if to warm herself up again. She hoped he didn’t hear the enthusiasm in her voice about him departing.

He left without so much of a word and she then turned back to the kitchen sink and rested her weight on her hands. His touch had given her the heebie-jeebies. “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.

* * *

Betty felt like her nerves were fried as she sat in the living room, reading a book to Christopher. She just felt like crawling under a rock and staying there for a while.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she could feel the tension build as she tried to ignore it. No, she was very busy. Very, very busy reading . . . the hungry, hungry caterpillar. Betty scrunched up her nose.

“Mommy, your phone’s ringing,” Christopher said. His whole body flopped over as he tried to reach for it.

Pushing him back up so she could dig it out of her pocket, she reluctantly had to answer it now.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Ms Andrews, your car is ready to be collected.”

She smiled, biting her lip before she laughed. “Why thank you, Mr Jones. I’ll be in soon. Please do accept my sincere thanks for having it done so quickly.”

“Is it Jug, Mommy?” The toddler squirmed in her hold. “Mommy, is it Jug? I wanna talk to Jug.”

“Sit down please, Chrissy.” Betty managed to get his butt seated again before she flipped her hair. “Sorry, Jug. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

"See you soon, Betty."

Betty hung up the phone with a dumb look of glee on her face.

“No fair I wanted to talk,” Christopher sulked.

“Talk to who?” Archie asked.

Betty’s mind shut down. Her body freezing. She almost wanted to put a hand over her son’s mouth. Elizabeth turned around, glancing over the back of the shoulder to smile at him. “Oh, it was the mechanic. The car is fixed.”

“I can drop you off now if you like?”

Elizabeth hesitated. Not what she was expecting.

“Well? How are you gonna pick it up without someone to drive you?” Archie said like she was stupid.

Suddenly Christopher was ripped from her arms as Archie picked him up. “We go get mommy’s car, ah bud?”

Christopher somehow remained quiet. Maybe it was because his dad scared him or he too was smart enough not to tell his dad about Jughead.

Christopher just gnawed on his fist instead, his gaze glassy.

“Yes, yes. Thank you. That’d be great,” Betty muttered quickly, standing to her feet in a rush.

Christopher reached for her again, hitting as he did. With a quick change of hands, Archie frowned as Elizabeth gripped her son tightly, gripped her purse and helped herself into the car, not waiting for him to follow. 

* * *

 

It was an awkward car ride indeed with Christopher being very quiet. Archie tried to talk to Christopher several times but the kid was not interested and seemed more fixated on his action figure. Archie’s face contorted before he flipped on the radio to fill the empty air.

Elizabeth sat with her hands on her lap, her legs pressed together tightly and her gaze fixed on the blur of motion outside. The trip was longer because Archie wanted to grab something from his office first before we went to the mechanic, even though the mechanic was closer and she only needed to collect her car. But no, he kind of held her hostage.

Hits by Britney Spears came on the radio and Betty scrunched up her nose. She had nothing against the artist, it just wasn’t her taste.  
  
She didn’t recognise the song and instinctively went to change it.

Archie slapped her hand lightly. “Leave it,” he said. “It’s fine.”

Betty could see Christopher's mad face in the rear-view mirror, but Elizabeth did nothing and sat quietly.  
  
The neighbours seemed to be staring more than usual today and watched their car when they saw them. Especially the old ladies. Elizabeth could see their judging gaze and glared back.

♪ _All the eyes on me in the centre of the ring_ ♩

“Can’t remember the last time you were in this car,” Archie said.

♪ _Just like a circus_ ♩

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “It’s been a while.” Elizabeth drowned out the song that was upbeat and poppy, not realising how much the words correlated with her situation.

“I’ve missed you,” he said smoothly. His touch seemed to burn. Elizabeth held her breath but didn’t move as his hand rested on her knee. It was a gesture that would be normal with most couples.

She heard Christopher’s whine, saw his face, and knew he didn’t like what he could see.

“Don’t touch her, dad!” he groaned.

Archie chuckled. “She is my wife, buddy. You’ll touch girls too when you're older.”

Elizabeth felt like she had a ball stuck in her throat, inhibiting her right to breathe.

“No, don’t touch her!” Christopher cried.

Archie, not one to be told what to do, increased his grip on her knee to tell her unhappy he was. His thumb moving on the outside of her knee seemed to stop.

“It’s alright, Chrissy,” Elizabeth choked out. “This is how mommies and daddies show love. Okay?”

“No,” Christopher whined and struggled in his car seat.

♪ _I feel the adrenaline moving through my veins. Spotlight on me and I'm ready to break_ ♩

Christopher cried in frustration. Elizabeth felt like she was out of air.

“It’s alright, Bubba. Calm down," Elizabeth said.

He did not and Elizabeth scrunched up her face before she abruptly turned in her seat and looked Christopher directly in the eye.

“We are going to see the mechanic, Chrissy. Do you remember when we visited the mechanic? His name was Jughead.”

Christopher stopped dead. “Jug?”

“Yes, and if you don’t be a very good boy, you won’t get to meet your friend, okay?”

Christopher nodded his head and Elizabeth sunk back into her seat. The tension did not leave the car, it only got worse.

Archie glanced at Christopher in the rear-view mirror then at Elizabeth. “When did you meet the mechanic?” he asked as if he suspected her of a crime.

“On the way home. We dropped in to see the car,” Elizabeth lied quickly. She gave Christopher a warning glare in the mirror reflection. “Christopher really likes the mechanic.”

Archie seemed rather unamused and snatched his hand back from her leg. “Good for you, you made a new friend, bud," he said to Christopher.

♪ _Just like a circus_ ♩

Archie then pulled into the car park of his office and the song ended but the radio continued to play. The moment he hopped out of the car, Elizabeth let out a long breath of relief.

She kept her gaze locked on following Archie’s movements. “Don’t tell daddy about Jughead, Chrissy. Mommy was in the hospital and then we went to see the mechanics and then we went home, okay?”

She wasn’t a hundred percent sure he’d remember the details of that story, and she hated that she put her son in a position of lying to his father. She felt so incredibly bad that her son was now in a position like this because she couldn't control her desire to be around Jughead.

Elizabeth felt the nails cut into her palm as the next upbeat song by Britney came on and somehow was fitting everything she was thinking right now.

The building was pretty much covered in glass windows, making it easy to watch her husband weave his way through women and acting like a complete ass.

This song she recognised, the one she saw Archie play and the one she heard. It was that womanizer song and fitted Archie too damn well.

A woman in a black pantsuit walked up to him, all smiles and dolled up. She was something out of a businesswoman magazine and screamed sophistication. Her low twisted chignon with a side sweep kept her black, silky hair neat and tidy.

The woman’s fingers lingered on her husband’s collar as she straightened it but then Archie leaned down to her ear and said something. Immediately the woman looked up, glanced out the window and Elizabeth almost wanted to hide. The woman’s soft milky skin and red rose lips made Elizabeth feel rather insecure.  
  
The woman then turned back, gave Archie a smile before she hugged him goodbye and left quickly with a perfect sway in her hips.

Archie then flicked his gaze up but Betty had already turned her head away.

Fuck this guy. He’d brought her to the place of his infidelity, just to rub her nose in it. No doubt in her mind, she knew that woman was the one who stole her husband away.

The problem, however, was that Betty no longer cared. Sure, she was pissed that she’d been dragged here, and with her son might she add, but she did not feel hurt. She worried that she’d become a robot incapable of feeling emotion, but her son’s look made her realise that just wasn’t true. She just didn’t love her husband anymore, so it did not hurt to see him with someone else. This might have been the first time it hadn’t hurt.

“Chrissy, you’re not to say a word, okay?” Betty said. “I love you, Bubba, so do mommy a favour and don’t say anything. You need to stop fighting daddy, okay? It’s not gonna help us.”

Christopher nodded. He seemed so small and young in his car seat but the truth was he was way smarter than everyone thought. He understood so much. Way too much.

Betty glanced up at Archie once more and frowned. “I’m gonna get us out, Bubba. I promise.”


	6. Choose

Betty watched as Archie walked out of the office building, straightening his tie.  
His look of arrogant confidence that once made her swoon now pissed her off beyond belief.

With a glint of mischief in his eye, he slid into the car once more and Betty could feel the cuts getting deeper in her palm.  
Archie instead of starting the car pulled out his phone and slumped a little in his chair.

“I’ve got to get to the mechanic,” Betty said.

“We’ll get there,” Archie said. Betty frowned as Archie then leaned over and turned the radio up and Britney continued to sing.

Betty was about three seconds from getting out of the car, grabbing her son and walking herself.

The lady in the black pantsuit walked out of the building, her purse on her arm, and she made a direct path towards their car.  
Betty felt the car getting smaller, all she could do was clench the side of the car in the way one might react to an oncoming disaster.

The woman then paused by Archie’s window. “Hey,” she said.

“Get in,” Archie said with a grin.

The woman went to climb in the back when Betty shouted, “No!”

Archie glared at her but Betty was already unbuckling her seatbelt. “Guests ride in front,” Betty said. “Sit in my seat.”

“Oh, haha. Thank you,” the woman said all the while tucking her hair behind her ear.

Betty slid into the back with her son and grabbed his hand. There was no way in hell that woman was sitting next to her child.

The woman then clapped her hands. “Ooh, I love Britney,” she said and turned the radio up a little more.

Now it made sense, Betty thought.

Britney was now singing way too loud and Betty's ears throbbed.

“So, you’re my husband’s assistant, huh?” Betty muttered, not even glancing at her.

“How’d you know? Do you talk about me Archkins?”

Archie gave the woman a worried glance and turned the radio down. “Elizabeth, this is Veronica. My assistant, yes.”

“Archkins,” Betty said in a dead tone. “How sweet, you have a nickname for my husband and everything.”

Veronica smiled, fixed her hair a little and patted Archie’s leg. “Yes, we’ve become very close these last few months. It’s all those long hours in the office.”

Betty caught her gaze in the mirror’s reflection and felt her inner-bitch scream to come out. She wanted to pull at her hair like a child and scream at her for ruining everything.

“I bet. Many long nights in the office," Betty said, a tone that was nice but secretly screaming 'I hate you'. "Tell me, did you get that merger done last week?”

“What merger?” Veronica asked.

Archie growled low in his throat.

Betty, all the while, was placing headphones on Christopher and plugging in his iPad. The boy became oblivious to the tension around him.

“The one between Veronica’s and Archie’s private estate," Betty said in a bitchy tone.

Veronica’s mouth popped open and she glanced at Archie, obviously looking for help. Archie was already pulling into the mechanic's garage, getting ready to lose it at his wife.

“Thanks so much for helping keep my husband entertained, Veronica. Very kind of you. It was nice to meet you.” Betty then unbuckled Christopher and pulled him out of the car with her. The headphones still on Christopher kept him busy.

“Oh, by the way, I love your perfume. Makes Archie smell much better. It really helps when he comes home at night to fuck me as well.” Betty slammed the door to watch Veronica glare furiously at Archie, but he was already getting out of the car with a lethal grace.

Betty moved quickly to get to the garage, her flats slapping against the ground in a fast-repetitive rhythm. “Jughead?” she called out. It was only when she passed through the large garage door that she heard sounds of violence. It sounded like someone was getting beaten up.

“Jug?”

Suddenly the sounds went quiet and then there was mumbling before Jughead appeared out of his small office, off to the side of the receptionist’s office.

“Betty,” he said, out of breath. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” His clothes were dirty and smudged with oil. His black hair was drooping over his face that covered in sweat, but it was his hands that made her freeze.

With her eyes locked on his fist, he followed her gaze to see the blood on his knuckles but didn't say anything.

Betty’s grip on Christopher tightened before she stumbled back. “I’ll get the paperwork from you later,” she said. She raced to her car and put Christopher in the back. Only to realise she didn’t have the keys to start the car.

Turning back to face the office, her back was shoved against the side of the car. The wind knocked out of her, she gasped for breath and her arms came up to defend herself.

“You think yourself so fucking clever, don’t you?” Archie snarled.

“Fuck off,” Betty growled.

Her eyes momentarily flicked over at Jughead as he was already making his way over to her. Betty didn’t need him, she already felt the rage, heat, and violent urge bubbling up.

She grabbed her husband’s arms, kneed him as hard as she could in his groin and watched him stumble back with wide eyes. “I told you not to fucking touch me,” Betty said.

Betty then punched him as hard as she could, making him stumble back even more. He winced, cupping his cheek but fury was still boiling in him. He was not going to let a woman kick his ass.

Archie stepped forward again when Jughead stood in the way. Jughead grabbed his shirt collar and brought him close. “Get the fuck out of my garage,” he growled.

Archie shook his head in disgust. “I should have known you were a fucking liar, Elizabeth. What’s worse is you’re a terrible mother for dragging Christopher into this.”

“Like you bringing your whore into our lives too? I haven’t fucked anyone else, Archie. That is the difference!”

Jughead shoved Archie away and looked at Betty with concern but she was too busy glaring at her pathetic excuse for a husband. “I’m not perfect, but I don’t have to be,” she said to Archie. “I know that now and I’m not going to let you ruin me. I’m not going to let you ruin Christopher’s life,” Betty said.

“Ooh. Brave words, Elizabeth, but we all know you’re coming right back. We all know you can’t take care of him yourself.”

“Watch me,” Betty threatened.

“You better be coming home, Elizabeth. If you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

“Goodbye, Archie. I think dear Veronica is waiting for you.”

Archie glanced over his shoulder before he gave one more look at Betty and stalked away.

Jughead took two steps after him, making sure he didn’t turn back.

“You okay?” he asked, not taking his eyes off Archie.

“Have you got my keys?” she asked, looking for a way out.

“Betty, you shouldn’t drive right now.” Jughead turned around to face her, his arms crossed.

“I have to go.”

“Don’t feel threatened to go back to that dick.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t need to be scared of him.”

Betty bit the inside of her lip. “It’s not him I’m afraid of,” she said, staring at the ground, so she didn't meet those haunting eyes.

Jughead looked surprised before he glanced down at his fist once more. “Betty-”

A large metal pipe came around his back, knocking him to the ground. Archie stood with other large men who were covered in tattoos. “Well, well Jones. You didn’t tell me you were the leader of the Serpents. Comrades here say you’re the guy we’ve been looking for. I would have had your ass much sooner had I known,” Archie growled.

“Careful,” Jughead said as he stood to his feet. “You don’t poke a snake there, suburban boy.”

“Archie?” Betty started to hyperventilate. Archie couldn’t be a gang leader. "Where did all these men come from?" Betty asked.

“I’d come home, Betty. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of this,” Archie said.

Jughead took a step forward, his fists clenched. “She won’t be in this.”

“Archie, what the fuck!” Betty screamed at him. “Leader of a gang?”

“No, but I have a lot of pull with the Ghoulies. How do you think we afford the place we do?” he said like she was stupid.

“How long!”

Archie smirked. “Long time, baby. I need help getting into office. They need help covering up crimes.”

“Yeah like selling drugs to kids,” Jughead snarled, taking another step forward.

Archie took another swing, taking out Jughead’s legs this time. Jughead crumbled to the floor and the Ghoulie members laughed.

“Finish this. We’ve got a three o’clock pick up,” one guy said. Betty saw their truck behind them and came to the conclusion that they'd probably stopped in when seeing Archie. These damn thugs had walked into the garage to hurt Jughead. 

“Patience, comrades. This fucker needs to suffer a little,” Archie crouched down to Jughead’s level. “He’s been trying to fuck my wife.” He flicked Jughead’s forehead. “You shouldn’t touch what isn’t yours.”

“Ex-wife,” Betty said firmly.

Archie cocked an eyebrow. “Oh no, honey, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Yes, I am. I don’t care what I have to do, Christopher is never going back there.”

“Bitch, I’ll put you on the ground too. Do you not see you’re not in a position to argue?”

“You don’t scare me, Archie. You’re nothing but a coward.”

Archie seethed with anger and he charged for her. Jughead got between them in no time. He grabbed Archie and tackled him to the ground. Punching him over and over; he beat his face to a pulp. The ghoulies started to approach. Jughead sat up, pushed his hair back and looked them in the eye before he whistled through his teeth.

The gang stopped only momentarily like something was coming to get them. Men then came out from Jughead’s office and Betty frowned. They were covered in marks and blood. They had been doing something in there and she was afraid to know what.

The Serpent members circled Jughead and stood protectively at his back.

“Dramatic timing,” one ghoulie said. “Nice,” he said sarcastically.

Jughead gritted his teeth. “Best not to walk into a den. You don’t want to start a war.”

“You knew this was coming, Jug. How do you expect Malachai to react when you’re interrupting his business?”

“Leave the children alone and I won’t fucking have to.”

“It’s our biggest profit, fuckhead,” the man snarled. “The town’s too small to exclude a minority.”

Archie then shoved at Jughead and stood to his feet, holding his bloody nose. “This isn’t over.” He flicked his hand at Betty. “Have the bitch too. Good luck trying to handle her though.”

After Archie and the Ghoulies sauntered away, one of the Serpents spoke up. “This is already a war, Jughead.”

“Yeah,” Jughead replied. “Inform the rest. They are gonna try again with that pompous prick jumping up and down.”

The Serpents moved away slowly, leaving Jughead to straighten himself and Betty standing behind him, her hands shaking.

Jughead turned to her slowly, saw her trembling before he closed in on the space between them. Towering over her a little, he grasped her hands with his and brought them up to his lips where he kissed them and then placed them on his chest. With a quick glance to his left, he saw Christopher had not seen the incident, he was invested in his Ipad. 

“Breathe,” he said softly to Betty.

Jughead then watched her carefully as small tears sprung from her eyes. He pulled her closer but didn’t crowd her with a hug. Instead, he just stood there, breathing deeply until her own breath matched his.

His heartbeat thumping under her hand seemed to bring her back down from the edge of panic. He was her own calming meditation and she didn’t know how he knew just what she needed.

Betty felt her whole-body sag from the dying adrenaline and tension; leaving her body an empty shell. Her hands dug into Jughead’s tank top more before she leaned forward quickly, placing her forehead on his chest. Squeezing her eyes shut, tears leaked down her cheeks as she grimaced.

Jughead’s hands came up to rest on her arms, stroking them, soothing her but remained quiet as he didn’t have the right words.

“I’m such an idiot,” Betty muttered.

Jughead shook his head. “If you’re an idiot then I shouldn’t have the mental capacity to breathe.”

Betty didn’t know what he meant by that. Rubbing her forehead against his sternum, she bit her lip and tried to breathe.

"As in you're smarter than me," he said.

“Jug, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. Just breathe, Betty.”

Betty then glanced up at him under wet eyelashes and her breath caught. His face so close and watching her intently made her hands clench tighter on his shirt.

“Jug,” she breathed. Betty reached up on her tiptoes to close the distance between their mouths. Jughead leaned back and pulled away.

“Let’s go get your keys so you can take the little one home.”

Betty felt like he ripped away her sanctuary. He pulled himself away from her with little remorse on his face.

“You said I shouldn’t go home,” Betty said quietly, watching him track towards the receptionist’s office.

“You do whatever you think is best,” Jughead said quietly. “It’s not my place to tell you what to do.”

“Jughead,” she said loudly.

He barely acknowledged her but he stopped his movement.

“Please don’t,” she said.

“What do you want me to do, Betty? Cause honestly, I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either but don’t just walk away,” Betty said, rubbing one of her arms.

Jughead bowed his head before he ran his hand through his hair. He then pushed on and entered the office, the door swinging quietly behind him.

Betty chased after him and Jughead handed her the keys the moment she walked in.

It was dim in the small space of the room. The window for customer interaction was the only light that came in here naturally.

Betty snatched the keys from him, her eyes lingering over his features that were harsher in the darkness of the room. The car suddenly beeped and Jughead glanced out through the window. She’d locked the car to keep Christopher safe.

“It’s not worth it, Betty.”

“I can’t go back now. You know that,” she replied.

“You’re giving up everything,” Jughead pointed out as if she’d suddenly change her mind.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Betty said as she got closer.

Jughead stepped back and shook his head slowly. “I won’t take advantage of you,” he said with a stern voice.

“What does that mean?” Betty took another step forward into his space.

Jughead’s hand shot out to cup her cheek, slowing her advance gently. He leaned in close, his breath hot on her lips and he stilled them both.  “It means you still got adrenaline pumping through your veins. Choices are easily regrettable when high on endorphins.”

“You’re telling me,” Betty growled sarcastically. Yeah, married to a manipulative prick made the word regret not a strong enough word. “I’m a big girl, Jug. I can handle my own.” She stepped back out of his range and bowed her head. “I’d appreciate just a little respect.”

Jughead cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t need to let me down gently. I can handle rejection.”

Jughead gave a short, quiet laugh. “Betty, it’s not like that.”

“Sure it's not,” she snapped. Betty’s hand clenched around her keys tighter and she turned on him abruptly, making her way out of the office.

She couldn’t make it to the door. Hands came around her waist, pulled her back and pressed her against Jughead’s strong, broad chest.

“Let go,” she growled softly.

“If you choose me," he said harshly in her ear. "I’m not letting you go.”

Betty took in a deep breath. “Awfully possessive of you.”

“I don’t share turf,” he said simply. “I take what’s mine and I don’t give it back.”

It was awfully quiet as Betty chewed on her lip. “I have to think about Christopher,” she whispered quietly.

“Yes, you do.”

“You’re not exactly bunnies and roses.”

“No, but I’m not going to hurt him.”

“I know. You haven’t,” Betty said. “You’ve done more for him than his own father.”

“So decide, Betty. Me or him?” Betty thought about Archie and how he'd hidden his gang affiliation from her. He'd hidden a lot from her and judged her for her own wrong-doings. He was the biggest hypocrite.

Betty tried not to hyperventilate. “If I choose you then I won’t be able to protect Christopher. He’ll have no roof over his head.”

“I’ll put you up until you find something. You have my word.”

Betty turned abruptly in his embrace. “You would?”

Jughead cupped her cheek before moving it down to pinch her chin. “Yes.”

Jughead then leaned his head against hers and they stumbled back a few steps until her back hit the door. “Jug,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Choose Betty. When your husband comes back for you, I’m gonna need to know if I’m protecting you or not.”

Betty thought about the way Christopher liked Jughead and even though Jughead wasn't exactly soft around the edges, he was nice to Christopher. He treated him well, offered a roof over his head and Betty didn't doubt that he'd be protected around Jughead.

“You,” Betty said. “I choose you.”

Jughead’s hand slipped behind the small of her back to bring her flush against him. His mouth closed over hers and she let out a feminine sigh.

His hands slid down to grasp her hips and his tight grasp made her gasp for breath. Pushing her hips up the door, her legs wrapped around his waist for support.  
She clung to him desperately as his lips trailed hot, quick kisses down her neck.

Betty ran her hands along his neck until they reach his hair, there, she filled her hands with it. Running her fingers through his already mussed up locks, his beanie shifted out of place until it fell between them. Jughead head caught it with one hand, all the while holding her up with the other. He then tossed it over his shoulder as it meant nothing compared to this moment.

His mouth opened hers with the strength and confidence of a man who knew what he wanted. His fingers dug in a little to the flesh of her hips until she winced, in which he picked her up off the doorway, reached behind her to clear the desk with his arm and laid her down.

Betty smiled as this was probably the first make-out she’d had in public for at least four years. People could probably see Jughead hunched over in the window and something about that made her crazy. An overwhelming lust of crazy.

“Betty,” Jughead said softly.

Betty barely heard him, she was busy doing something else.

Her eyes flicked up to his as he leaned over her, his arms either side of her head. He leaned down closer, their lips inches from each other.  
“My pants stay on today,” he said softly.

“What?”

“I meant it when I said I’m not taking advantage of you.”

“Then why am I underneath you,” she teased, pushing the stray locks of hair of his forehead.

“You’re starved of touch, Betty,” he said softly and took her bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged until her fingers dug into his forearms then he released.  
“However, you’ve got your kid in the car and I’m still at work.”

Betty never felt sadness for this type of thing ever, but now her bottom lip was quivering and she was shaking her head to stop the tears.  
She didn’t quite know why she would cry either. She never really did.  
Jughead always brought out these weird, sudden emotions in her and she worried she was acting childish around him.

Jughead leaned down closer until his breath brushed her ear and his groin pressed into the crook of her thighs. Betty’s back arched and her head strained back as much as possible, her hands brushing down his chest.

“Betty, I promise I’m going to take you,” he said with a soft growl in her ear, “Just not right now.”

Betty’s legs came up around his waist and held her to him, kissing him with wild abandon. She heard the groan from the back of his throat as one of his hands came to rest on her waist.

She grabbed both hands full of his shirt before she pulled and then pushed at him until he had to step back. “Easy,” he growled softly.

Betty was panting hard, a wild look in her eye that Jughead knew he’d never seen before. “Betty Cooper,” he said with a smirk on his face. This was Betty Cooper.

She bit her lip and grabbed his shirt but did a sort of wrestling movement where she turned and pushed him down onto the ground instead.  
Jughead would have felt winded but his elbows caught his fall and seeing her sitting on the desk made him narrow his eyes.

Betty quickly got to his level, straddling his waist. His hands immediately came up to grab her hips and slow her in her pace.

Her fingers were already at work, running them underneath his tank top to feel the skin beneath.  
With a catch of his hand, he slowed her advance again, his grip gentle around her wrist. “You’re definitely not shy,” Jughead said.

Betty glanced at his face and sighed. “You’re definitely not into this,” Betty said sadly.

Jughead’s knees came up so she toppled onto his chest, where he grabbed her and rolled them. Nearly under the desk, Jughead hovered above her, pinching her chin before giving her a controlled, but sexy kiss.

“Don’t get it wrong, Betty. I told you.” He kissed her shoulder. “Later.”

A man’s voice called out and Jughead’s eyes widened before he pressed a finger to his lips then hers. “Stay here,” he whispered.

Jughead’s warmth left as he stood to his feet. “What can I do for ya?” Jughead asked.

“Uh, yeah, I was wondering if my car’s ready yet,” the man said.

“Red Corvette, right? Yeah, no it’s not ready yet. Sorry, it’s not an easy fix.”

Betty couldn’t help that wild side that felt so comfortable. She sat up underneath the desk and almost laughed at the temptation of what she could do.

Jughead stood before her, his waist just below the desk as it was a standing desk design. So easy to mess with him, Betty couldn’t help it, she hadn’t had this much fun in ages.

“The part is going to take a while-” Jughead’s eyes widened before his fist thumped the table.

“You alright?” the man asked.

“Yeah. Just realised I forgot something,” Jughead breathed. His hands flat on the desk before him, his head bowed, he tried to breathe normally but couldn’t.

“Well give me a call when the part comes in,” the man said.

“Will do,” Jughead breathed.

The man disappeared out the door and Jughead leaned forward onto the desk, his weight resting on his elbows, his hands clenched tight. He let out a ragged breath and swore.  
  
The sensation he felt overtook his annoyance, all the while making him realise just how much of a woman he’d let into his life.

“Christ, Betty,” he growled.

He heard the wet pop before a small, amused laugh. “Did you not like it?”

“Betty, I swear to god-” he cut himself off as he looked at her car on the other side of the garage. He could see her son waving to him in his car seat.

“Now I feel dirty,” Jughead said.

“What?” Her voice a small whimper.

“Your son is staring at me.”

Betty almost hit her head on the desk as she realised. "Fuck," she gasped. "He's young, I'm sure he won't know." She hoped. She felt awful that her son had almost been forgotten because she was too busy having fun.

Betty watched as Jughead put his precious cargo back in his pants.

“I’m not going to take your mouth, Betty, with him staring at me. That shit’s not going to happen.” Jughead took a step back, righting his pants before looking at her. His face then softened as he realised she was upset. “Get up, beautiful. Take him back to my place and get him settled. He needs his mom more than I do.”

Betty snorted as she got to her feet. “Like you’d ever need me.”

Jughead pulled her closer but didn’t move himself. “I do in ways you don’t know yet.”

Betty chewed on her lip before she bowed her head. Jughead kissed her forehead and then picked up her dropped keys, handing them to her once more. “Take him back to mine, I’ll be home soon.”

“How do I get in?”

“It will be unlocked.”

“Why?”

Jughead cocked an eyebrow. His apartment had nothing much of value in it and it was above a gang-infested bar. Yeah, she could see there was no security risk – for him.

“Oh yeah. Alright, I’ll see you soon then.”

“Oh and ask Toni if you see her, for the package I asked for.”

“Is it anything illegal?” Betty asked with a look of concern.

“No,” Jughead said with a grin.

Betty then left with a wave before she walked to her car with a stupid grin on her face.

“Jughead!” Christopher screamed when she opened the door. The boy was in the process of ripping his headphones off and waving to him.

She prayed to god he’d seen nothing of what had gone down before.

“What’s wrong?” Betty asked.

“Jughead! I wanna see Jughead!”

Betty then turned back to face the office where Jughead had a scowl on his face as moved to his office. It was clear he didn’t know he was being watched.

“Jug?” Betty called out.

Jughead froze in his tracks and his expression changed immediately. “Yeah?”

“A little boy wants to say hi before we go.”

An innocent, child-like look of joy crossed his face before he scratched the back of his head.  
He made his way over quickly and yanked open the back door. “Hey buddy,” he said.

Christopher squirmed in his seat, straining to get out. “Jughead!” he said excitedly.

Betty crawled into her driver’s seat, then with a grin reached back and popped Christopher’s seat buckle. Christopher then like a tiger, pounced out of his seat, crawled across the others and leapt into Jughead’s arms, much to Jughead’s surprise.

“I think you’ve got a friend,” Betty said.

Jughead’s mouth contorted as he tried to hide his smile. He hugged the toddler to his chest and felt weirdly attached. He realised he'd kill for this kid.

“You been looking after your mom, buddy?” Jughead asked.

Christopher nodded. “Yes, and I haven’t told her the secret ingredient.”

Jughead laughed. “Good job.” He then disappeared and rounded the car so he could put Christopher back in his seat on the other side. Buckled in again, Christopher wasn’t happy that he couldn’t stay with Jughead.

“I’m gonna let you in on another secret. One that you can’t tell anyone,” Jughead said quietly to him.

With Christopher’s nod, Jughead said, “You and mom are gonna come live with me for a while. Does that sound okay with you?”

Christopher threw his hands up in the air. “Mom! I’m going to live with Jug!”

Betty burst out laughing at the toddler’s joy. “Is that right?”

“Yes. We’re gonna play go fish and make pancakes and play-” The toddler ran off a very long list of things he planned to do. Jughead was already closing the door before he finished.

With a grin on his face, he opened up Betty’s door and leaned in. “Look’s like you’ve got an itinerary,” Betty said.

Jughead leaned in even more. “What’s your itinerary?”

“You’ll see,” Betty whispered. “It might include you.”

“I look forward to it.” Jughead then waved to Christopher. “See you soon, buddy.”

“Bye!” Christopher exclaimed.

Betty wanted to kiss him goodbye but didn’t dare it with Christopher there. Instead, she turned the key and Jughead stepped back, closing the door. She then pulled out of the garage and stopped to wave him goodbye again.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said.

Betty then turned her wheel and Jughead disappeared into his office once more. A scowl on his face, Betty felt a twinge of darkness ruining her happiness.  
Jughead was still a gang member and she was just about to bring her son into a snake’s den.


	7. A Sinner's Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty couldn't breathe. “You couldn’t even catch me,” Betty replied, not losing her cool edge.
> 
> “I wouldn’t even have to try. You’ll be on your knees," Jughead said.
> 
> There were a few sounds of people getting a little flustered at the heated conversation yet they did nothing to stop it nor did they sound disgusted.
> 
> “Not if you’re on your knees first,” Betty said. She meant it as a threat but by the reaction of the people surrounding her, it sounded more sexual.
> 
> “You’ll have to stop panting first to put me on my knees,” Jughead replied with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There is no sinner like a young saint.” ― Aphra Behn

It was probably the scariest two minutes of Betty’s day. Grabbing her son into her arms, she couldn’t have held him tighter to her body.  
  
“It’s okay,” she said. “Mommy’s got you.”  
  
Betty entered the bar and people immediately looked up at her. Children were not necessarily allowed in a bar but something told her it was how she looked vastly different to the first time she walked in.

She was in her smock. Her hair pulled back neatly and her pants pressed to perfection. Everything screamed that she did not belong in here and what was worse was she had brought her a child who looked to be on the verge of crying.

“Uh hi,” Betty said. “Jughead sent me.”

A woman Betty recognised emerged behind two large men, shoving them aside like they were nothing.

“Hey, Betty,” Toni said.

Betty sighed relief. “Hey,” she replied, then glanced around nervously. “I don’t remember this place being this terrifying before now,” she said in a hushed whisper.

Toni smiled, grabbing her arm as she led them to the back of the bar. “Everything seems way scarier when you have a kid,” Toni said.

“You have kids?” Betty said surprised.

“No, nieces and nephews. Damn well kill for those little bastards.”

Betty nodded with a discreet frown. Bastards wasn't really a loving endearment.

Toni guided her up the hidden stairwell then gestured to the door at the top of the stairs. “You should remember the way,” Toni said.

“I think I was high on endorphins last time,” Betty muttered as she stomped her way up to Jughead’s apartment.

“Aren’t we all,” Toni said before she went to disappear.

“Oh wait," Betty said and slapped her forehead. "Uh, Jughead asked about a package.”

“Already in his apartment,” she called out without turning back.

Betty found a small basket on the table by the entrance. It was filled with children appropriate films and Betty smiled. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said under her breath.

Betty then plopped down on the couch with Christopher and he was now happily content with watching Shrek.

It was eerily quiet in the apartment and felt strange to Betty. She felt like a stranger in one’s home, reluctant to touch anything she hadn’t before.

It left her chewing on her fingers as she thought about the events today. She was almost glad that Jughead slowed her advance because she really was riding a buzz. It would have been awful of her to sleep with someone, three seconds after leaving her husband. They were still married and a lot of shit had to happen before she would feel more comfortable moving on without being a hypocrite.

Betty got through two more movies after Shrek as Jughead had not arrived. Given kid’s movies are about an hour and a half, Betty knew he’d been gone more than three hours since she got to his apartment. He had not come back "soon" at all.

She feared the worst. If something happened to him, she wouldn’t feel comfortable staying here and no doubt would be kicked out. She’d have to . . . go back.

“Oh god,” Betty panicked and pushed herself off the couch, leaving Christopher to his own amusement.  
Betty paced through the apartment and felt her muscles coil up more. She tried to distract herself, and looked for anything.

She put her hands on her hips as she glanced around. She saw a small radio and turned it on. Switching channels until she found something worth listening to.

♪ I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up, four-wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seat ♩

Betty froze. It was a song she hadn’t heard in a long time.

♪ I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights. Stabbed a hole in all four tires ♩

Betty could almost see Archie’s car and that bitch Veronica on the hood if it. She wasn’t one for revenge, but hell, at the moment she felt like it.

♪ Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats ♩

Betty smiled, ran her hand along her neck and imagined destroying her cheating husband’s car.  
For all he’s done and hidden from her, she should get to torment him just a fraction of what he did to her.

Hands came down on her waist and held her still. “I didn’t know you were an Underwood fan,” a heavy voice whispered in her ear.

“I’m not,” she said quietly. She turned with a smirk. “But something about this song calls to me.”

Jughead pushed his hand through his hair and smiled.

“I wouldn’t break private property that you can’t afford to fix,” Jughead said softly.

“I can make it look like teenage delinquents.”

Jughead laughed before shaking his head as he made his way across the apartment. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he muttered.

Betty then hugged herself as he disappeared, feeling alone again. She did feel the spark of relief that he was okay.

Christopher didn’t notice Jughead walk in, he’d fallen asleep. His little chubby cheeks red and plump as he’d fallen over sideways.

Betty smiled and picked him up. She had been so flustered she hadn’t realised he’d missed two nap times today. Of course, he was exhausted.

She put him to rest in Jughead’s bed, hoping he didn’t mind. She really didn’t want to put Jughead out of his bed for long.  
That couch wasn’t going to be comfortable.

Betty sat with him, stroking his head and felt guilt consume her. She’d disrupted his world.

Jughead peered out from behind the dividing glass wall, naked from the waist up.

“He okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Yeah, he’s due a nap. I’ve been bad with his schedule today.”

“Well tell me whatever you need for him and I’ll get it.”

“No, I can’t ask you to do that. You’re already putting up your bed and that’s more than enough.”

“Betty, it’s okay.” He leaned closer. “Take the helping hand, it won’t kill you.”

She bit her lip with a small grin on her face. “Fine,” Betty said. “Do you think you could drive me to my house tomorrow to get some of his things. I just don’t want to go by myself.”

Jughead nodded. “Say no more.” He winked. “Just tell me a time and we’ll go.”

He then disappeared once more. Maybe he was getting a shirt or something. She didn’t know.  
She heard the rustle of keys and dashed to him. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, going to go get dinner. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, okay.”

“I don’t keep groceries, but I’ll start so he can have his schedule back on time.”

“No that’s-” Betty froze at his look. “Thank you,” she said.

“See you soon.”

Something compelled her. She didn’t know what but her feet were moving fast before she ran to him. “Wait!”  
Jughead turned back to catch her, his arms wrapping around her, holding her to him as her legs wound around his waist.

It almost seemed like he suspected she’d do that. “Don’t leave,” she whispered against his neck. “I can’t – I can’t be alone.”

“Then I won’t leave.” He beat feet over to the couch and sat down without letting her go. Straddling him didn’t even faze her right now, she was too busy hugging to him like a Koala.

“Breathe, Betty,” he said softly.

“What have I done?” she muttered.

“You got out an abusive relationship and now you and Christopher are free.”

“He’s got no home.”

“Yes, he does. You’re his home.”

Betty finally sat up and looked him in the eye. “What?”

“Home doesn’t necessarily mean a house. It’s where you feel comfortable,” he said. “That’s going to be anywhere his mom is.”

“You’re more complex than you seem, Jones,” she said quietly.

Jughead looked over Betty once before his hand came around her neck and pulled her to his lips, where he nipped, sucked and teased her bottom lip. “You have no idea,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

♪ All my life I’ve been good but now, oh woah, what the hell ♩

Betty abruptly turned from him, strode across the room and switched off the radio. Her hand rubbing back and forth over her head indicated her battle with her desire to fulfil her whims.

“Don’t like Avril, huh?” Jughead said quietly.

“Too many songs are describing my situation lately.”

Jughead laughed, crossed his arms and dawdled over to her.

“I mean what kind of station plays Underwood and Lavigne on the same station?” Betty exclaimed, trying to avoid his gaze.

“Betty,” he said.

“I’ve never hated music more,” she growled, turning her body even more from him.

He prowled around her, watching her carefully like she might flee. “Betty,” he said again.

“Don’t even get me started on-”

Jughead grabbed her abruptly and pulled her against him. “Don’t take this the wrong way but shut up.”

Betty finally glanced up at him, her brows furrowing together.

“Well, you’re not very polite," she muttered.

“Come,” he said and grabbed her hand.

“Where are we going?” Jughead tugged on her hand more. “No, I can’t leave Christopher," she exclaimed.

“You really think someone’s going to go through the trouble of getting through my men to try and take him?” Jughead asked rhetorically.

“I can think of one man,” Betty said under her breath.

“I’ll have Toni up here in case he wakes. We won’t be gone long.”

Betty’s mouth contorted.

“Betty,” he said softly and turned to her. “Do you trust me?”

“More than I should,” she said honestly.

“Then let me take care of you.”

He pulled on her hand harder this time and pulled her out of the apartment.  
Toni was already heading up to the apartment and was minding Christopher before they were even out of the bar.

“I feel guilty,” Betty bit out as they searched for his bike.

“Betty, you leave Christopher with those daycare people for longer every day. At least my people won’t let someone walk out with him.”

Betty’s eyebrows raised. He had a point. “You mean like when a gang leader walked out with him,” Betty snarked back.

“Exactly,” Jughead said with a wicked grin and kick-started his bike. “Now are you getting on, Ms Cooper?”

* * *

Betty thought a lot about that comment as they zoomed through the winding roads that were surrounded by undergrowth.

“Where are we going?” she called out over the roar of the wind.

Jughead, who wasn’t wearing a helmet, gave a sinister grin over his shoulder before turning back so his hair could flow the right way again.

_Greendale 18.6 Miles_

Betty frowned slightly at the sign that they whipped past.

“I think you took a major wrong turn back there,” Betty shouted.

Jughead did nothing, which indicated it was intentional, and half an hour later pulled up the bike at the first gas station in Greendale.

“Why’d you bring me here,” Betty whispered. The roar of the bike was no more and it was eerily quiet so Jughead could hear her pain.

Jughead just sat still, his hair all wind-swept over his face that was bowed.

Betty got off the bike in an angry rush and walked quickly to the Welcome to Greendale sign. She pulled off the helmet, her hair whipping around as she did and with a lot of power, she threw the bike helmet at the sign, screaming violently in rage.

Then she flipped around on Jughead. “I can’t believe you brought me here. You sick bastard.”

Jughead leaned forwards, his arms resting on the bike handles as watched her carefully. “We aren’t leaving till you let it out.”

“Who do you think you are! You think you know what’s best for me all of a sudden. Well, guess what? You don’t! Take me back right now.” Her arms flailed as she shouted her distress.

He just stared at her with an all-knowing glance until she stopped.

“Why?” she said quieter. “Why bring me here?”

“You said this is where you grew up.”

“Yeah and I told you I never wanted to come back here.”

“Why Betty? Tell me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jughead then reached into his pocket and pulled out his metal case that held his cigarettes. “I can wait,” he said as a matter of fact.

Betty let out a frustrated sigh and watched the movement of his lips. She might have envied that smoke hanging from his lips if she wasn’t so angry. Jughead then lifted up both hands, cupped his hands and lit up. He took a moment before withdrawing his cig from his mouth. He flicked the lighter open and closed in his hand and sat there looking better than he should have. It might have been terrifying to some, to Betty it was doing something weird to her stomach.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Betty said, a quiver on her lips.

Jughead then took another puff before he said, “I know your mom was a stuck up bitch. It’s why you have control issues.”

Betty shook her head and wiped the tears from under her eyes before they could run. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’ve never mentioned your dad,” he said and Betty froze. She locked up so tight she might have cracked if someone touched her.  
Jughead watched her become a statue of horror, freezing her in her place.

He got to his feet, gravel crunching under his boots, and he let his cigarette hang between his lips as he approached Betty.

She was shaking now. Violently. She slowly glanced up at him, an expression of suppressed horror on her face. She was scared.  
Smoke blew out into the space between them and Betty felt her muscles lock.

“What happened here, Betty?” he said softly. Betty almost wanted to choke on the smoke but felt it wrap around her instead.

“It was a long time ago and it’s done," she said, dismissing him.

Jughead didn't move. “I’m waiting, Betty."

She let out a frustrated cry under her breath before she pulled away. “I can’t.”

“Betty, I’ve done worse.”

“Worse?” Betty turned back to face him. “How do you know?”

Bikes that were a background noise in the far distance now sounded much closer. Betty frowned at Jughead before she turned her back and glared down the street. A gang of motorbikes appeared over the horizon; their lights blinding.

“What have you done?” Betty whispered.

The bikes were like a roar in her ears. The blood rushed to her head; making her brain feel like it was being squeezed alive.

“Jughead,” she said in horror before the gang entered the empty gas station.

The bikes then circled them before they came to a halt. There was about ten of them but Betty knew there was more.

“Well, well. Princess stepped back into the village,” a strong, sassy voice said. “I’m surprised, Betty, I must say.”

Betty hung her head. “I didn’t want to come here. I promise you that,” she snapped back.

The woman then stepped off her bike. The tight leather hugging to her skin. She straightened her red, leather jacket and flipped her long, red locks over her shoulder. “Oh, I know. Your gorgeous boyfriend here did on my request," she said.

“Request?” Betty glanced back at Jughead with an angry look. “So what you just bend to other gangs now?”

Jughead shook his head. “Here on business. This was a side agenda.”

Another gang member then suddenly got a package out of their bike’s satchel and got closer to hand it to Jughead. The red woman gestured to it as it passed by. “And so my part is fulfilled.”

“Drug deal?” Betty growled at the mysterious package. “Fuck you, Jug. I don’t want in on this.”

The leader of the gang stepped forward. “What, you’re suddenly too good for us? Have you completely forgone any gratitude?” the woman said.

“I haven’t forgotten, but I paid my dues and we are done," Betty spat.

“Once a Pretty Poison, always a Pretty Poison. You know that,” the woman reminded her.

“I have a family. I can’t do this life anymore.”

“Settle petal,” the woman brushed her off with a flick of her hair. “We all have a family too and if I remember correctly, you were part of that family. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for us.”

Betty felt the rage building up in her shoulders. “I’ve already given everything for that. I won’t give up my son’s life too!” Betty shouted at the top of lungs. She got right up in the woman’s face. “So, come and try it," she threatened.

Jughead stubbed out his cigarette under his boot with a grunt and Betty felt herself shrink back into herself again - realising her outburst.

The woman smiled. “There she is," she said knowingly.

Betty scowled and turned, pushing her way through the small crowd. “Fuck this,” she growled. “I’ll walk back.”

“So that’s it, huh? Walking away again?” the woman called out. Betty heard the crunch of gravel under boots and knew someone was following. “You can run, Betty but that darkness is always going to follow you!” the woman called out.

Betty froze. Every instinct in her told her to keep running but she didn’t. She stayed still as her nails cut into her palm, her shoulders bunched and her gaze remained fixed on the ground beneath her. She had her back to them all; too afraid to turn around.

Jughead had been heading back to his bike and leaned against it when she'd stopped.

“Criss-cross,” Betty said under her breath and closed her eyes tight. Her body shook and she held her breath. “Criss-crossed,” she said a little louder so they could hear. “Lips locked.”  
  
She turned around, not daring to show the emotions she felt inside. The leader of the gang let out a wide smile and it stretched over her face, seeming almost sinister with the amount of red lipstick.

“Fucked up and roughened,” the woman said and extended her arms.

Betty got closer. “You'll end up poisoned,” she finished.

The woman then smiled wider. “We knew you’d come back eventually.” She glanced over at Jughead. “True sisters never forget our motto.”

“You guys have a motto, cute,” Jughead teased and crossed his arms over his chest. "Doesn't rhyme though," he pointed out.

Betty let the smallest jerk shift her shoulders before she glanced back Jughead. “How do you know her?”

“I didn’t. The first time we’ve met. Set up a meeting a few days ago with another member and here we are,” Jughead replied.

“So you don’t know her?”

The woman extended her hand out to Jughead as she approached him. “The name’s Cheryl, lovely. Si ravi de vous rencontrer.”

Jughead raised his eyebrows. “I’ll take that as a compliment and not a threat,” Jughead said lightly but he was not amused.

“She doesn’t speak French," Betty said. "She just pretends she does. So, she can’t be sure if she’s threatened you or not.”

“So snippy, Betty,” Cheryl said. “Just like usual.”

“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”

“We bring out the real you,” Cheryl countered.

Betty ran her tongue along her gums, tucked in her folded arms tighter and her gaze flicked over to Jughead.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jughead said.

“Or what?” Betty snarled.

“You won’t like what I do to you,” Jughead growled softly. The threat didn’t make her feel scared at all. If anything, she liked a challenge. She wanted to be threatened. She wanted to have a reason to snap.

The crowd surrounding them in this standoff was very quiet. Too quiet. They all stared; like something was going to happen.

Jughead then pushed himself up and off his bike. “Correction. You will like it, I’ll make sure of it.”

Shit, maybe something was going to happen.

“You couldn’t even catch me,” Betty replied, not losing her cool edge.

“I wouldn’t even have to try. You’ll be on your knees.”

There were a few sounds of people getting a little flustered at the heated conversation, yet they did nothing to stop it nor did they sound disgusted.

Cheryl’s devious smile, as she backed up more so Jughead could approach Betty, made Betty a little mad. There was no way in hell she’d be embarrassed here.

“Not if you’re on your knees first,” Betty said.

She meant it as a threat but by the reaction of the people surrounding her, it sounded more sexual.

“You’ll have to stop panting first to put me on my knees,” Jughead replied with a smirk.

Betty checked herself. She wasn’t _panting_. Sure, her breathing was a little shallow but not panting.

“You should check your ego, Jughead. It’s starting to show.”

“Just like your real side,” he said. They were now inches apart. “And Betty it’s much hotter than who you pretend to be.”

“You don’t know anything about me-”  
  
Jughead grasped her chin and tilted her head up. “Wrong. I might not know your favourite colour, Betty, but this side of you I see right now I know. I know you.”

“It’s not that simple,” she said breathlessly. “I have to be better . . . be perfect or else-”

“You’ll be human?” he muttered. Betty collapsed into his arms like her body let itself go all of a sudden.

“Tell me, Betty. I wanna know," he said calmly.

“No,” she whispered. She knew exactly what he wanted to know. Other people might have been confused at the sudden change of topic but she knew. Those memories were regurgitating and making her sick so she couldn’t forget.

“Tell you what?” Cheryl said quietly.

Jughead glanced at her but said nothing and kept his attention on Betty.

“Tell me, Betty,” Jughead said softly.

Betty felt the rush, the burning in her ears and knew what was coming. It came up like vile and she strained in his hold as she hunched over. "This is where we killed my father,” Betty cried and fell to her knees sobbing.

_To be continued . . ._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments guys, it really makes me wanna write more.


	8. The Prison of Elizabeth Cooper

Cheryl’s eyes focussed on Betty; like she was a snake in the grass. It was clear Cheryl suddenly felt threatened. “Let me ask you something, Jones,” Cheryl said, keeping her gaze locked on Betty. “Do you fear death?”

Betty’s breath was shallow and her grip was weak as she rested her weight on her arms that were pressing down on her knees. “Stop it, Cheryl,” Betty warned.

Cheryl’s head snapped up to look Jughead in the eye. Jughead took a double take, surprised at Cheryl’s sudden intensity. Jughead then felt the tension that he’d missed due to his concern for Betty and felt stupid that he’d been lulled into a false sense of security. He'd walked into a gang's territory and nothing could save you once you crossed that line.

 “You’d be stupid not to fear death,” Jughead said quietly but with no less intensity in his gaze than the woman standing before him.

Suddenly the circle of people got tighter and Jughead tensed but did not flinch. He clicked his tongue with a smirk on his face as he threw his head back slightly and let everyone see just how pleased he was with the sudden threat.

Betty immediately stood like a robot rebooting but then she put on her mean face. The arrogant, brave Betty she’d long ago buried resurfaced completely this time and she flicked her hair, straightened her jacket and whirled around to face the stand-off.

“That line is as scary as the first time you used it,” Betty said. Cheryl glanced at Betty in confusion and anger before Betty got in her way of Jughead. Standing between the two, she gave a fake smile. “And even a child wasn’t scared the first time.”

Cheryl’s lips curled at the corners. “Maybe not you. You’ve never feared death.”

“Why fear something that can’t hurt you?”

“Hurts going in,” Cheryl said quietly, an evil gleam in her eye.

“Only for a little while but when you’re at the end it doesn’t hurt anymore,” Betty said like she was discussing nothing but a small child.

“And that’s all you’ve ever wanted, isn’t it? It’s why you became a coward,” Cheryl said with more intensity.

Betty wanted to hit her but she closed her hand instead and turned from her. “I won’t argue about this again.”

“You are, Betty. When he came along, you thought he was your way out. The way to happiness but even in the beginning you knew it was wrong.”

“Shut it, Cheryl,” Betty threatened. “Before I shut it for you.”

“You aren’t the boss anymore, sweetheart.”

Jughead raised an eyebrow and Betty caught his reaction in her peripheral vision. Slowly she closed her eyes and sighed. “Cheryl,” Betty breathed.

“Archie was never going to be good for you and you always knew that!” Cheryl suddenly yelled.

Betty winced, felt a shiver run over her spine and her neck started to sweat.

“He broke you! You weren’t meant to be moulded and we all told you this!”

“Stop it!” Betty shouted and turned back to face her. Cheryl got in close and crowded her, making Betty angrier.

“We were always there for you. Always. We followed you to the ends of the earth and you abandoned us for him!”

“Fuck off, Cheryl. Get out of my face!” Betty pushed Cheryl and everyone took a step in closer. Everyone in the circle was now shoulder to shoulder and Betty felt that familiar claustrophobia.

Cheryl flipped her hair with a fake laugh and waved everyone off from approaching more. “Oh Betty, how we’ve missed you,” she said almost sarcastically. “Don’t feel too bad, Betty. Or do. We all know you love to feel guilt and punish yourself. That’s why you went with that twat. Couldn’t handle the guilt so you found something else to destroy yourself with.”

“Hey,” Jughead growled. He took a step closer to Betty and placed a hand on her neck. “I don’t care if you’ve got history and got shit to work through. You don’t talk to her like that.”

“Or what pretty boy? You gonna hit me?”

“I don’t need to inflict violence on you, sweetheart, to make you break.”

Betty glanced up at Jughead with a slight frown.

“Promises, promises,” Cheryl said. “No really, I’d love to, sweetheart, but I don’t play for your team. I know dear Betty here probably isn’t giving you much rope but you’re gonna have to keep looking.”

Betty’s gaze snapped back to Cheryl. “Why don’t you just fucking come at me,” Betty said, charging forward.

Jughead kept his grip on her tight, inhibiting her movement. He whispered in her ear, “I can handle myself.” Betty’s glance at him made him want to laugh. It was a look of anger and jealousy combined.

“Ooh, soft spot,” Cheryl said. “Betty, I didn’t think getting any was a problem with you.”

Cheryl knew the moment she said it was a mistake. Everything seemed to become slow motion as Betty once again turned to her with an expression Cheryl had only seen once before. She knew there was nothing she could do to save herself and braced herself . . . too late.

Betty clocked Cheryl with the full force of her turn, knocking Cheryl onto her ass.

Everyone tensed once more but no one moved. Betty slipped out of Jughead’s hold with ease and crouched over Cheryl. “Fucking say that again,” she said.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Cheryl coughed.

“Didn’t mean it like what? Like the sexual harassment I got?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Cheryl said louder.

“You better watch what you say, Cheryl,” Betty said. She pushed Cheryl’s face to the side as if she couldn’t stand her looking at her. “Or you _will_ regret it.”

Betty stood, pushed her way through the crowd, shoving people harder than necessary but no one complained or did anything to stop her. “Jughead, let’s go,” she called out. “I will leave without you if I have to,” she threatened.

There were soft sounds of movement and when Betty got to the edge of the crowd she stopped and turned back. She frowned at what she saw.

Through the small gap between people that she’d cleared, she saw Jughead help Cheryl to her feet. They then shared a quiet word between them before Jughead came to Betty. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders casually, he led her away to the bike, not saying a single word.

Betty didn’t know what to say either and before she knew she had a helmet jammed on her head and was moving away fast on the back of the bike, desperately clinging on.

The group of familiar faces, all people who were once her friends and saved her life, disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

Betty felt like it was some sort of nightmare. She’d somehow escaped her past only for it to haunt her now. Seeing them all again regurgitated all those memories she once suppressed.

Jughead had carried her back up to the apartment when they got home. After all the adrenaline left her body, she crashed hard. She wasn’t used to that much all at once.

Placing her down on the couch, he pulled a blanket over her and turned down the volume on the TV. Sharktale was still playing but Christopher was nowhere to be found.

Jughead then disappeared and Betty heard the familiar sound of dinnerware clinking. Barely awake, she realised that her lids were closing and she was exhausted.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” Jughead hand her a bowl of Egg Fried Rice and Betty frowned.

“Where’d this come from?” she muttered, groggy.

“You’re welcome,” Jughead said before he disappeared again.

Betty muttered a thank you before she ate quietly and slowly. Memories still swam around in her mind - making her oblivious to everything else.

“Thanks, Toni,” a rough voice said.

Betty glanced over her shoulder and saw Toni emerge from behind the stained glass of the bedroom. Jughead handed her some money and nodded curtly with respect as she left the apartment.

Jughead then disappeared into the bedroom and Betty assumed he was going to bed, not really giving it too much thought.  
When he emerged again, Betty was nearing the end of her meal and completely exhausted.

“I thought you were going to bed,” Betty muttered quietly.

Jughead laughed as he sat down beside her. “I would but something tells me Christopher is a bed hog,” he joked.

Betty frowned; unable to register what he said . . . until she did.

“Oh my god,” she gasped. Her hands went limp and Jughead quickly grabbed the bowl off her lap and placed it on the coffee table.

Betty felt the sting of tears and held her breath so they wouldn’t run. “I can’t believe I forgot about him.”

Jughead was very quiet as he assessed the situation.

Betty then started to hyperventilate, unable to sit still.  
That was when Jughead grabbed her head and pulled her close, resting her head on his chest so she could hear his heartbeat and match it.

Guilt consumed her as tears squeezed out of her closed eyes. Only terrible mothers forget about their children, she thought.

“No,” Jughead said. “You’re not going to beat yourself up this time. I won’t let that kid have a shitty life because his mom broke down.”

Betty sat up a little surprised, her cheeks red and her face wet. “What?”

“That kid deserves a good mom and you’re too strong to let it happen any other way. That’s what I like about you.”

“Why do you care?” she whispered in disbelief.

“Because.”

“Because?” Betty prodded, shaking her head.

Jughead suddenly became very quiet.

Betty frowned slightly. “Oh no. You don’t get to hide anything after what you forced me through tonight.”

“But I am not pretending to be something I’m not. I am who I am because of my past and I’ve dealt with it.”

Betty wanted to hit him in frustration. “Why can’t you tell me? You’ve discovered my secrets.”

“You haven’t told me everything," he replied with a shake of his head.

“And how would you know? Cheryl told you, didn’t she? That’s what you guys were whispering about.”

“I want to hear it from you,” Jughead said.

“Why? You already know obviously.” She shrugged at him, turning herself slightly away from him, defensively.

“I need to hear it from you.”

Betty pushed away from him completely, curling up in the furthest corner of the couch.  
“No,” she said. “Why say hideous things? No, you won’t even tell me what you’re hiding.”

“I’ll tell you everything if you tell me this now.”

Betty sniffed. “Fine. You want to hear the damn words?”

Jughead didn’t seem fazed.

“My father assaulted me all throughout my childhood. My mother did nothing, nor care.  
She was so high half the time she couldn’t remember I existed. So, the Pretty Poisons helped me get rid of him. I’m a murderer. Now you know. End of story.”

“He almost killed you,” Jughead said softly.

Betty refused to let him near. She almost flinched at every sound. “Doesn’t make my actions any less of a crime.”

“He almost killed you," Jughead stressed.

“Is that what Cheryl told you?” she whispered, angrily.

“Said they found you in your own blood with your father covering your body.”

Betty flinched and closed her eyes as the tears squeezed out.

Jughead leaned in slighter. “And they got you to your feet to land the final blow. So, you would know he couldn’t hurt you anymore.”

“Yes, they saved me,” Betty choked out. 

“And yet you abandoned them. You were their leader, they came to your defence and you left them.”

“I got them out of juvy,” she snapped back. “You have no idea,” she mumbled a growl.

“Give me an idea.”

Betty almost sobbed but bit it back. “I took their place,” she said before she sucked in a breath.  
“It was only because Archie’s dad is a lawyer that I got a plea deal to trade my life for theirs.”

“Do they know this?” Jughead asked.

Betty shook her head with a sarcastic laugh. “Of course not. They think I shacked up with Archie and ran off.”

“But you were doing time," he muttered and studied his hands.

“Yes,” Betty said harshly as if the thought repulsed her.  
“It was father-in-law dearest, who got me out early. They didn’t think it was fit to have their grandchild growing up in the system.”

“You were pregnant,” he said quietly. Jughead’s head dropped and his gaze fixated on his shoes.  
  
“Yep and that’s how I got trapped. I opened my legs once and ended up in a place worse than prison.”

“You survived though,” Jughead said, his voice low.

Betty’s gaze snapped up to him. “And you? What were your battles, Mr Jones?”

_To be continued . . ._


	9. I Solemnly Swear I’m Up to No Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Slow?” Jughead murmured. Betty’s steely blue gaze blinked away the water that drenching her. “Fast?” Betty’s eyebrows dived. “Or rough?” Jughead asked.
> 
> “My preference?” she choked out; blowing away the water pouring over her lips. “Your speed,” she whispered. “I want your speed.”
> 
> Jughead cocked his head a little mockingly before letting his fingers dip inside her underwear. He inched closer to touching her where she wanted it most; so sweetly, hauntingly, pleasurably good
> 
> “Tell me, what speed do you think that is?” he asked.
> 
> Betty didn’t know how to answer. She was half insane from lust, but she hadn’t lost her grip on reality yet. “Dangerous,” she whispered.
> 
> Jughead grunted, pressing his face into her neck and she could almost feel his smile against her skin. He must have liked that answer. “We’ll see, won’t we?” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Mature Audiences. Scenes may include coarse language and sexual content.  
> I do not own the characters nor any of the familiar content to the 'Riverdale' series.

Betty found herself watching Jughead cautiously. While she felt safer with him, than she did her own husband, there was no denying the danger that came with him too. He was a gang leader after all, and she was pretty, damn sure he’d killed a man earlier that day.

“Orphan,” Jughead muttered, quietly. “Don’t know my parents.”

Betty noticed the way he didn’t meet her eyes. “Did you ever try to find them?” she asked carefully.

“I didn’t care enough,” he said with a shrug. “If they wanted me, they would’ve kept me.”

It made her feel an overwhelming sense of sadness that he had no family. She grasped his hand, taking it into her own and held it. He looked between them; staring at their entwining fingers like it was something foreign.

Betty noticed a vulnerability in him that eased his face and made him seem almost like a new person. “Jug,” she whispered, leaning forward. He seemed familiar like she knew him in a past life right at that moment, and she hesitated.

“I already told you,” he said, “I’ve dealt with that shit. There is no need to cry over it.” His tone was rather harsh, distant and he was already retracting back from her as if the conversation had annoyed him. Standing to his feet, he yanked his own hand away and turned away from her.

Soft spot, Betty thought. Parents were always such tricky subjects. Most people don’t appreciate their parents until they are gone, or they’ve become parents themselves. Jughead never even knew his. He’d never known family love. Betty thought about her own parents and realised she was pretty much in the same boat.

Betty followed after him as he almost stomped away. His whole body seemed ridged. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Betty said quietly.

Jughead stopped in the open space, now feeling claustrophobic and he snapped at her. “Drop it, Betty. Just leave me be,” he growled.

Betty wrapped her arms around him tightly – her fatigue forgotten.

Jughead kind-of looked like a baby in the water, waving his arms around to gain balance before finally placing his hands on her hips.

“What are you doin’,” he said quietly. His voice was deeper, probably due to the cold night air and it caused Betty’s stomach to flip.

“Giving you the attention, you never got,” she replied breathlessly.

Jughead didn’t know how to respond. He just found himself looking to his bedroom where Christopher slept and wondered how an idiot could ever give up such a wife and child as perfect as this.

“Betty,” he breathed, closing his eyes. “I can’t.”

Betty’s hand brushed down his chest, over his stomach and brushed against the bulge in his jeans. He flinched, naturally, and pulled back slightly.

“Betty, I can’t,” he said again.

He went to reach for her hands when she cupped his forming erection and it almost sent him falling back onto his ass.

Jughead gripped her wrists tightly, grabbed her around the waist and pushed her up against the wall beside the dirty bay windows. He trapped her body with his hips, now pressing into her, and shifted her hands to above her head – making sure she couldn’t push him into making any dumber decisions.

“What do you not understand about, I can’t?” Jughead breathed, his lips trailing along her neck but not touching as it would invoke a reaction.

“Why?” she asked. “Am I not enough-”

Jughead laughed before pulling her off the wall, picking her up by her hips and setting her down on an end table to her right. She seemed a little flustered with how much he was manhandling her, however, when she reached for his belt as he came to stand between her thighs; he knew nothing would really fluster her.

She was feeling lust, he realised. He doubted her husband touched her in the way she needed. It made him want to rectify that badly.

He caught her wrist again just as his belt became unbuckled and he closed his eyes. “Betty, it has nothing to do with not wanting you.” He leaned in, his hot breath on her lips and she reached for him with her other hand – but he stopped that too. “We can’t. I won’t take another man’s wife.”

Anger marred her face. “Oh, so that’s why. Tell me, did it look like I was ever going home to that piece of shit again?” she asked, anger searing her voice.

“You’re still married,” he whispered. “And you won’t get anything if you cheat.”

Betty suddenly realised that she could get a hell of a lot of money for him being a cheating scum bag in the divorce settlement.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “But his dad is a lawyer, I can’t beat him. He’ll be able to twist everything, even if we don’t screw. He’ll make it out as if I did anyway.”

A smile quirked at the edges of his mouth before Jughead leaned in. “I’ll get you the best lawyer in town then,” he breathed.

“How?” she asked, frustrated. “The only other good lawyer in town that is maybe slightly better than them is L & J’s.”

“Good thing I have a favour to call in,” Jughead said and dipped his head. His kissed her cheek sweetly.

“You know, I am kicking out of hell to be a good girl. If your lawyer is as good as you think he is – I should be repaying you,” she said seductively.

Jughead’s face dropped as her legs suddenly locked behind his legs.

He tried not to lose his cool, looked her in the eye and cocked his head. “I like to think of myself as a man with honour,” he whispered.

“In this case, there is no honour to be found. Archie threw me away. I’m not going to let him have any more control over me while he’s at home screwing his brains out.” Betty felt an unexpected hiccup of sadness. “He doesn’t get to dictate what I do now.”

“Hey,” Jughead breathed, trying to calm her and he wrapped a hand around her waist.

She saw him look up like he was casing the place before he pulled her further away from the windows. “You think there are spies?” she asked, wiping at her nose.

“Come,” he whispered and held out a hand.

Betty grasped his hand loosely before he led her into his small bathroom and turned to her with a wicked smile.

“Is this your way of telling me I stink?” she whispered. Betty realised she hadn’t taken a shower in the last few days.

Jughead pushed her jacket off her shoulders slowly, gradually revealing her shoulders and the body she hid beneath such a bulky, leather jacket.

When it hit the ground, he heard her soft gasp and immediately stepped in closer. His hand now pressed to the small of her back and he leaned in, his lips lightly brushing over her neck again.

“Please,” she whispered quietly. “Don’t tease.”

His hand snaked up her shirt, making it ride up as his hands travelled the history of her body. There were scars and she winced every time he touched one. “They make you who you are,” he breathed.

She reached for his belt impatiently when he stalled her hands. “He does not dictate over you,” Jughead said. “But you shouldn’t do it despite him. I’ll give you what you want.” His hand then cupped her breast as he kissed the shell of her ear. “I’ll pleasure you as much as you need, sweetheart, but I will not take you until you are legally not bound to him.”

Betty’s eyes widened. “What are you saying?” she whispered – though she knew.

“I told you, I won’t take another man’s wife.” He grabbed her blouse and lifted it over her head. She seemed a little confused, a little lustful but mostly annoyed. “But I will take care of her,” he promised.

“Don’t do me in favours,” she muttered.

Jughead’s hand slid up her back delicately and his hand then twisted – making her bra fall loose around her shoulders.

She frowned before she let out a small laugh. She remembered how Archie got frustrated with the clip of her bra and wrestled it like it was a small puppet. And yet, Jughead did it all smoothly in several seconds.

“Impressive,” she said.

He winked. “And I’m not doing you any favours. If I’m being honest, this is more for me,” he teased.

He popped her jeans open and slid his hand down each side. The jeans fell easily after they passed her knees and Jughead’s hand skimmed back upwards, along the inside of her thigh and she gasped; her hands clenching his shirt.

A grin spread across his face as his hand touched the softest skin on her body. “Of course, you are,” he whispered. His hand teased over her panties; that was already soaked through and it gave him all the power trip he needed.

Betty’s face morphed into confusion when he withdrew his hand and flipped on the shower behind him.

“What?” she asked, stepping out of her jeans. She’d taken off her shoes and socks an hour ago.

He kissed her cheek, her neck, her collarbone and hoisted her bottom up onto the sink. She let out a startled gasp as the ceramic was cold and smooth on her thighs.

His mouth trailed down again before his mouth traced a path over her breast and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to pull him closer or push him away. It was too much to bear for a day clogged with stress.

“Jug,” she groaned in frustration.

He stood upright and leaned in; his mouth inches from hers. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, and his hand cupped her breast. “I’ll give you the orgasm of your life, but you have to be quiet, so you don’t wake Christopher.”

Betty’s head snapped up and she cocked her head. “Cocky much?”

“Well you do make it very hard,” he breathed. His head dipped again, and she felt the searing heat of his mouth over her already burning skin.

When his mouth captured her nipple, her hand speared through the locks of his hair and held tight. His hand also drifted between her legs, slowing teasing a promise of what could happen.

“More,” she whispered.

He abruptly yanked her off the counter and into the splash of the water. She’d never had a shower with Archie once and yet she was standing here with another man excited at the possibility.

As he pushed her under the spray and dropped his mouth again to suckle at her breast, she realised he was still fully clothed.

“Shit,” she spouted before reaching for his shirt.

“No,” he said and cupped her sex. She froze. “My clothes have to stay on. It removes the temptation.”

“At least take off your shirt,” she muttered back. “I’d like a view.”

He licked his bottom lip before reaching over his shoulder to clutch the back of his shirt and he shrugged the soaked, black, cotton shirt over his head. It fell to the tiled floor with a wet thud.

Oh, hell yes, Betty thought.

She thought her body had stories to tell. This guy held a novel of a story just on the skin of his stomach.

Betty’s hand curled around his bicep and wound tightly around his serpent tattoo. She couldn’t quite get her hand around his arm but that wasn’t necessarily a problem.

“Slow?” Jughead murmured. Betty’s steely blue gaze blinked away the water that drenching her. “Fast?” Betty’s eyebrows dived. “Or rough?” Jughead asked.

“My preference?” she choked out; blowing away the water pouring over her lips.

Jughead seemed rather amused and pushed her against the tile so he took the water stream to his neck. “I’ll only ask once,” he muttered.

Betty tried to think clearly though it was difficult with his burning, hard skin pressed against her. His mouth was travelling over her neck and heaven forbid the hand slowly teasing over her panties.

“Your speed,” she whispered. “I want your speed.”

Jughead cocked his head a little mockingly before letting his fingers dip inside her underwear. He inched closer to touching her where she wanted it most; so sweetly, hauntingly, pleasurably good.

Betty panted, her feet almost slipping out from underneath her as she moved up onto her tippy-toes and tried to get closer.

Jughead’s hands brushed over her pleasure bud and made a soft gasp leave her lips – but then he paused, and she caught his evil grin. “Tell me, what speed do you think that is?” he asked.

Betty didn’t know how to answer. She was half insane from lust, but she hadn’t lost her grip on reality yet. “Dangerous,” she whispered.

Jughead grunted, pressing his face into her neck and she could almost feel his smile against her skin. He must have liked that answer.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” he replied.

Betty gripped at his shoulders. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

Jughead touched her, right there, and her mouth parted. “We’ll see who is the dangerous one at the end of this.”

Jughead’s mouth closed over hers softly but also demanding attention. He caressed her side and her – well, she was too much of a lady to say inappropriate things.

Though he pretty much attacked her mouth with gentle, attentive kisses; he was demanding with what he asked from her body below the belt. His fingers arched, followed the curve of her before he cupped her completely. “I can’t decide if fingers are cheating,” he breathed.

“I’m sorry?” Betty breathed, pressing a hand to her chest. She seemed confused, almost oblivious to much else outside the bubble they had when together.

“Inside you,” he whispered in her ear.

Betty moaned at the idea. Hell, the last time – no. She refused to keep comparing everything to him. Archie didn’t deserve her attention and thoughts. The guy who was paying care to her now deserved her undivided attention.

Betty’s arms tightened around his neck and she pressed her forehead to his. “I don’t deserve . . . this.”

Jughead’s mouth quirked up at the side. “But you haven’t even seen what I can do yet.”

Betty arched an eyebrow before Jughead laid kisses down from her jaw to her hip bones. His black, ripped jeans soaked up the rest of the water as he knelt before her. He didn’t waste time removing her undergarments, he just brushed them aside and covered his mouth over her softest skin.

“Sweet mercy,” Betty breathed and clutched at the jet-black hair; sticking up in every direction.

 Betty, for the first time in forever, didn’t know what to do with her hands. She felt inexperienced which was so rare with her.

Her hands shook as she put them on his shoulders, his neck, the top of his head, and then it just became a repeated pattern.

Jughead took a breath and nuzzled at her thigh. “Don’t hold back on me now, Betty. If you want to tug at my hair then please, be my guest.” She heard the teasing in his tone and bit her lip in embarrassment.

“Hey,” he growled playfully. “No hiding now.” She hadn’t realised her legs had tried to close back up in embarrassment.

Betty could feel her walls trying to rebuild out of insecurity; like they always did.

“Betty,” he groaned and stood back to his feet. He roughly grasped her hips; almost shaking her when her gaze didn’t meet his. “Don’t.”

Her bright blue eyes finally flicked up to meet his and her bottom lip trembled.

“You don’t need to hide from me,” he said, his tone firm. “I don’t care if you have some weird clown fetish, alright? Nothing you do should make you feel embarrassed.”

Betty slowly moved her head, indicating she was listening.

Jughead’s eye twitched like he didn’t believe her, and he cocked his head slightly when he leaned in again. “Open your mouth.”

“What?” she whispered, surprised.

He didn’t say anything else, his face said it all.

Betty slowly complied with what he asked; her jaw slowly lowering. A soft gasp then immediately left it as Jughead dragged a single finger over her lower set of lips.

Her hand shot out, to grab onto him so she didn’t fall over, but then she ended up placing both on the tile behind her. Jughead’s inserted his finger into her mouth, the taste of her swirling on her own tongue.

Her eyes widened, narrowed then closed as he pressed himself closer. Her lips immediately closed around the single digit, slowly wrapping her tongue around it and sucking it deeper into her mouth.

He immediately pulled back, bowing his head and letting out a shaky breath. “Not my best idea,” he said under his breath.

She murmured an incoherent question.

“Now that’s all I’m going to fucking see in my head,” he grouched, his hand curling over her hip again.

“Why? Does it make you think of something else being in my mouth,” she whispered breathlessly, trying to tease him. She knew it sounded less seductive and more desperate with how much she was panting. “Just me wrapping my tongue around your-”

Jughead claimed her mouth before the image took over his mind. He couldn’t afford distractions as good as her and he already knew he wasn’t fucking sleeping tonight.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” he said as he kissed his way down her slim neck. “But shut the fuck up.”

Betty couldn’t help but grin. His words, so gravelly and full of lust, made her thighs clench together and her heart stutter a beat; like she was some teenage girl in high school.

She whimpered as his hand drifted back down, over her stomach, across her hip, past her pubic bone and right down the centre of her.

She cried out at the touch, unsure as to why it caused her to jolt and Jughead immediately pressed his free hand to her mouth.

“Seriously, Betty. Shut up,” he breathed. “God, I’m going to fucking embarrass myself.” His words held no anger to them but rather frustration and agony.

Betty noticed his hand that touched her most sensitive skin disappeared momentarily as he righted his pants; like they were too tight for him.

“Here, let me,” she moaned, reaching for him.

“No, Betts,” he breathed, pushing forwards so his chest met hers. “Not tonight.”

She almost whined before Jughead dropped back to his knees and lapped at her again. Her hands immediately pushed through his hair, tugging at the long, thick locks; and he groaned his approval.

The vibrations made her thighs clench around his face and he pushed them apart again, moving in, so his shoulders could hold them apart.

Betty shuddered as his hand travelled up her hips and across the small of her back. Holding herself there, as the water poured from above and his mouth did wonders, Betty couldn’t believe her life had come to this. Literally.

Her whole body felt like it had shattered into a million pieces and she couldn’t remember a time where her body felt this good, this alive and sensitive. She would always think; having Christopher was the best moment in her life, but this was definitely a close second - especially as the moment seemed to last.

Betty didn’t want this to end. She didn’t want her body to stop shaking, shivering, moving like this. She wanted this nerve tingling feeling to last.

She opened her eyes, to thank him, and to maybe do it again when she realised, she was sitting in the bathtub between Jughead’s legs. Glancing back over her shoulder, her back had been leaning against his chest and she didn’t remember sitting down.

Jughead’s hand stroked her arm gently, maybe even possessively but she didn’t notice it until now. His other hand shifted then, the one on her belly and she watched as he slowly opened his eyes to reveal that sapphire blue colour.

“You okay?” he said, his voice warm.

She realised she was now cold; the water had been turned off and her skin was cooling rapidly. Jughead didn’t seem to be bothered though, sitting here with his arms around her and just relaxing.

Betty moved slightly and Jughead turned with her. “Cold?” he guessed and scrambled out of the bath before her.

He grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around her before she could protest. “I think I need to work on my skills at keeping you warm,” he said quietly.

Betty’s mouth quirked at the side. “I think you’re in no danger of screwing that up,” she replied, tugging the towel around her body tighter.

“Mommy?” Christopher called out.

Betty froze momentarily, looking to the door like she’d been caught before closing her eyes and calling out, “I’m in the bathroom. Be there soon.”

Jughead hung his head, wrapping another towel around his waist and stepped out before Betty.

Betty counted to three and slowed her breathing down before walking out of the bathroom. She then beamed at Christopher. This was a genuine smile.

Christopher carried an over-sized pillow in front of him, blocking his view as he waddled her way.

“I spilt water,” Christopher mumbled. “I didn’t mean to.”

Abruptly, Jughead stepped backwards from his closet, that was opposite the bathroom door and was now dressed again in fresh clothes. He chuckled and said, “Don’t worry, your mom spilt water too.”

Betty almost glared at Jughead but was too busy watching Christopher, who had dropped the pillow at the sound of his voice. “Jug!” he cried.

His little feet pattered along the wooden floors as he ran completely past Betty and to his new favourite person. His wee, little arms wrapped around Jughead’s leg, clinging to him desperately.

This was too much for Betty’s heart to bear and she pressed a hand to her chest. “Guess he doesn’t need me anymore,” she said with a small smile.

Jughead’s face of worry mixed with shock stared at Betty as he didn’t know what to do. “Damn,” Jughead then brushed the hair off his forehead. “Betty, it’s attacking me,” he said, faking annoyance.

Christopher thought this was funny and made roaring noises as if it would scare him. Jughead covered his face, pretending to be scared and asked for Betty to come and save him.

“You’re supposed to be asleep, mister,” Betty said, grabbing up Christopher by his armpits.

“No!” Christopher said and squirmed. He reached for Jughead instead, like that would save him from bedtime. “Help me!”

Jughead pretended to just be out of reach, his fingers almost touching Christopher’s before he clutched at his own heart. “I can’t,” he said. “I can’t reach you.”

Christopher kicked harder, his little, stubby hand reaching out further until he was almost completely tipping over her shoulder. Betty struggled to hold him.

“I can’t. Too tired,” Jughead said, pretending to be sleepy. He suddenly dropped to his knees, his hands hitting the floor with a loud smack and made one last fatal attempt to reach Christopher. “Can’t. Must sleep.”

Christopher wiggled too much until Betty was forced to put him on the ground. She watched with a smile as Christopher ran to Jughead’s curled up body and mimicked the shape of him.

This little boy trusted this gang leader, a potential killer, drug dealer enough that he pressed up against him on the cold floor and went to sleep. He’d never done anything close to this with his biological father.

“Oh my god,” Betty whispered.

Jughead peeked an eye open as Christopher backed up his little tush and practically became the little spoon. It was the most adorable thing Betty had ever seen. Jughead rested the weight of his head on one arm and glanced at Betty with a smirk. “Does this mean I’m his favourite?”

Betty rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “How humble you are,” she said, pretending to be mad. In all honesty, it was crumbling another wall inside of her.

Jughead then turned his attention back to Christopher, wrapped one arm around him and stood to his feet with him. Betty watched as Jughead carefully tucked Christopher into his shoulder like he was afraid the boy would break.

“Have you ever looked after kids?” she asked.

Panic then flashed across Jughead’s face. “Shit, am I doing wrong?” he asked.

Betty chuckled. “No, you’re – you’re amazing with him. I’m envious.”

Jughead shook his head. “Haven’t been around kids since I was one.” He then shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Betty placed a hand on his free shoulder and brushed the hair off Christopher’s face with the other. She watched as her son slept peacefully, his little mouth squished up against Jughead’s shoulder and making an 'o'. 

“You’re perfect,” she said. She glanced up at Jughead, barely breathing with the amount of emotion crushing her and she cleared her throat. “You’re good. With him, I’m mean. He’s never been this responsive to anyone before.”

“Really?” Jughead asked like he didn’t believe her.

Betty shook her head softly. “Never. He doesn’t talk much to his dad. He cries if anyone tries to pick him up. His grandparents only get a wave out of him. You’re the only one he’s ever hugged, talked to or acted like this around before.”

“Oh,” Jughead said, looking back down at the sleeping boy in his grasp. “That’s fucked up," he whispered to himself.

“I think it’s poetic,” Betty breathed. “You’re his hero, yet to the rest of the world, you’re the villain.”

“And to you, my lady?” he said playfully, though there was a vulnerability in the tone of his voice.

Betty didn't think about her next words, they just came out in a breathless gasp. “You’re everything.”

Jughead captured her mouth before she could utter another word. His hand slipped around the small of her back, pulling her in tight before Christopher moved, startling Jughead back into reality.

Jughead cleared his throat as he pulled back, only to place his forehead against hers. “I think I better put him down before my arm falls asleep,” he said.

Betty chuckled and followed him as he tried to put Christopher down.

The little tike clung to his neck and refused to let go.

Betty chuckled again. She never wanted this moment to end. “You have to lie back, he’ll eventually detach. He’s like an octopus.”

Jughead seemed reluctant but did what was suggested and Betty decided then that this is where she wanted to be from now on. She’d never had this before. She’d never seen someone so hard around the edges, be so soft and kind like this.

Christopher laid on Jughead’s chest and looked so small but Betty had no fear.

“How long until he detaches?” he asked.

Betty shrugged her shoulders. “Could be five minutes. Could be two hours.”

“Well then, you better get your ass in here,” Jughead muttered. “If I’m going to be stuck here, then you are going to be stuck too.” His tone was playful. His eyes beautiful in the minimum light; cast by the glow of the lamp. His body – well, Betty chose not to think about that as she turned off the lights in his apartment before climbing into bed by his side.

His arm came around her, pulled her onto the other side of his chest and she stared at the restful features of her son’s face; wondering how she’d deserved this piece of heaven.

“Is this real?” he whispered.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he muttered, and she heard the slight ruffle of the material before his breathing changed; indicating he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep.

_To be continued . . ._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. I know I've been a bit slow. This is a hobby after all and I'm trying to make the story consistent. Leave a comment down below if you're liking it so far (and if you're not).  
> Thanks so much for reading guys and have an amazing day. :)


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